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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/bennebootherpoemOOstuarich 


EN 


EBO: 


AND 


OTHER      ^  O  E  M  S. 


BY 


HECTOR     A.     STUART, 

"CAUBAN." 


\8  raT 

or  TMI 

UNIVERSITY 


Sm 


or 


SECOND     EDITION 


1876 


ftTftrf-c  l»  Act  of  CuMgw,  ia  th*  year  1876,  by  Hktor  A.  Stuart,  in 
Um  OCot  of  the  Librariaa  of  Oongrea*,  at  Wadiington. 


TO 

Gen.  JOHN  BIDWELL, 

of  Chico, 

This  Volume  is  inscribed.     Being  a  Token  of  the  Author's 

Esteem  of  a  sterling  Pioneer  and  Representative 

Citizen  of  California. 


INTHODUCTEOK 


This  is  the  second  edition  of  *'Ben  Nebo,"  the  success  of  the 
first,  warranting  the  assumption  that  its  successor  would  be 
equally  well  received.  To  the  chief  Poem,  are  added  a  number 
of  shorter  works,  varied  in  character,  and  as  such,  calculated  to 
please  as  varied  tastes.  Each  of  these  is  inscribed  to  some  per- 
son of  note,  either  in  Literature,  Art,  Medicine,  Jurisprudence, 
Journalism  and  Commerce;  the  distinction  so  accorded,  being 
the  result  of  friendship,  or  of  personal  esteem,  entertained  by  the 
author  for  those  thus  honored,  who  exercises  the  privilege  of  a 
poet  in  so  doing. 

As  regards  the  merit  of  the  poems,  that  must  be  left  to  the 
judgment  of  the  reader,  yet,  if  there  is  any  truth  in  cultivated 
opinion  which  has  stamped  these  productions  with  approbation, 
the  decision  cannot  be  unfavorable.  In  this  connection,  the 
author  may  be  excused  in  citing  the  appended  extract,  taken 
from  "  La  Voce  del  Popolo,"  the  editor  of  which  being  himself 
a  poet,  may  be  justly  regarded  as  authority  on  subjects  of  a 
poetic  character. 

"Abbiamo  ricevuti  i  primi  fogli  della  seconda  edizione  del  ben 
noto  poema  cui  porta  per  titilo  '  Ben  Nebo,'  del  rinomato  poeta 
americano  Hector  A.  Stuart.  La  nuova  edizione  4  accresciuta 
di  molti  canti  e  poemetti  finora  inediti;  la  carta  e  della  migliore 
e  piii  costosa,  la  stampa  niditissima.  Gran  parte  del  poema  h 
dedicato  ad  avventure  e  scene  amorose  nelle  incantevoli  isole 


VI 


tropicali  dell'oceano  Pacifico.  II  signer  Stuart  ha  immaginzione 
vivace,  inventiva  felice,  verseggiatura  facile  e  chiara;  il  linguagio 
n*e  terso,  elevato,  dolce,  impeiuoso  o  terribile,  secondo  il  bisogno 
degli  oggetti  cui  imprende  a  narrare  o  descrivere.  Tutto  ci6 
rende  la  nuova  edizione  del  'Ben  Nebo*  un  lavoro  interessante  pel 
cultori  del  bello  e  degno  d'un  posto  onorevole  fra  i  poemi  piii 
classici  cui  vanta  la  giovane  America." 

The  following  is  another  indorsement  from  an  equally  high 
authority,  John  Mac  Donough  Foard,  who  thus  speaks  of  the 
preceding  volume: 

**  We  are  indebted  to  the  author,  Hector  A.  Stuart,  for  a  copy 
of  his  new  poem,  entitled  "  Ben  Nebo;  a  pilgrimage  in  the  South 
Seas."  The  theme  being  the  adventures  of  a  semi-piratical  hero, 
there  is  a  charm  about  the  work  akin  to  that  which  makes 
**The  Corsair"  of  Byron  so  irresistibly  attractive  to  the  lovers  of 
marine  literature.  As  "Ben  Nebo"  tells  his  own  story,  we  will 
not  attempt  to  enlighten  the  reader.  The  poem  consists  of  three 
cantos  in  the  Spenserian  measure,  and  is  beautifully  illustrated — 
the  frontispiece  being  a  life-like  portrait  of  Mr.  Stuart,  in  the 
character  of  the  hero.  It  is  the  most  pretentious  poem  which  has 
yet  emanated  from  the  brain  of  a  California  poet.  The  story  is 
well  sustained,  and  the  rj'thm  musical  and  harmonious,  the  dic- 
tion pure,  and  the  imagery  all  that  the  most  fanciful  imagination 
could  desire.  In  a  word,  "  Ben  Nebo"  is  a  production  of  un- 
common merit,  and  bespeaks  for  its  author — who  is  yet  on  the 
sunny  side  of  thirty — an  honorable  niche  in  the  "  Temple  of  the 
Tuneful."  Mr.  Stuart  is  better  known  to  our  readers  as  "Cal- 
iban," whose  satires  and  epigrams  have  attracted  much  attention 
in  the  literary  world." 


-*  i 


BEN     NEBO; 


A    PILGRIMAGE    IN    THE    SOUTH    SEAS. 


Inscribed  to  THOS.  B.  LEWIS,  Esq.,  Banker,  of  San  Francisco. 


Canto     I 


Retired  within  this  gloomy  cave,  that  stands 

All  lonely  on  the  sad,  sea-beaten  shore, 
'Tis  mine  to  sing  of  Ascian's  glowing  lands — 
To  plow  again  her  sparkling  waters  o'er, 
And  from  Oblivion  strange  events  restore. 
And  as  the  Genius  of  th'  eventful  song 

Exultant  springs  his  mingled  tones  to  pour, 
Deep-hidden  deeds  in  every  whisper  throng, 
And  chanting  Pity  weeps  as  roll  the  strains  along. 


The  sun  is  red  on  Australs'  flashing  main, 

And  fresh  the  wind  that  curls  the  rushing  foam; 
No  more' inert!   Upheave  the  lengthened  chain! 

We  must  away  o'er  distant  seas  to  roam; 

Self-exiled  from  our  fair  and  much-loved  home. 
On  deck  Ben  Nebo  stood,  and  sadder  grew 

As  darker  evening's  curtain  'gan  to  loam; 
And  oft  he  sighed,  as  o'er  the  surges  blue 
The  fond  familiar  land  receded  from  his  view. 


Now  out  upon  the  open  sea  we  ride, 

And  to  the  pressing  gale  the  vessel  bends; 

Her  sturdy  bows  push  headlong  through  the  tide, 
And  far  beyond  her  tapering  shade  extends, 
As  deep  astern  the  lurid  sun  descends; 

While  round  the  mast  the  sea-gull  circling  flies, 
And  to  the  watch  his  dirgeful  murmur  sends. 

Till  his  untiring  wing  sidelong  he  plies, 
And  melts  in  gloom  as  Eve  forsakes  the  dark'ning  skies. 


Beyond  the  boiling  wake,  his  eyes  in  vain 
Ben  Nebo  cast  to  view  the  fading  shore. 

But  shadows  loom  along  the  leaden  main. 
And  doubtful  outlines  gloam  the  distance  o'er, 
Where  waves  on  waves  in  chilling  fury  roar. 

His  native  land  has  melted  from  his  sight, 
But  Recollection  can  its  scenes  restore; 

Yet  many  a  joyous  image  cheers  the  night, 
And  weeping  sorrows  rise  like  phantoms  to  aftVight. 


"Adieu,  fair  land  !   long  years  may  first  revolve 
Ere  I  again  thy  vernal  meads  shall  tread — 
The  dreams  of  youth  in  frosty  age  dissolve, 
And  new  bom  pleasures  mingle  with  the  dead, 
As  Time  with  chilly  wind  beats  round  ray  head; 
Adieu,  fair  land!    I  love  thee;    yet  'twas  thou 

Gave  me  this  being  which  I  so  much  dread; 
'Twas  thou  sustained  my  infant  steps,  yet  now 
Self-exiled  from  thy  shores,  the  wintry  waves  I  plow. 


"Yet  why  should  I  complain,  since  all  are  doomed 
To  various  toil  by  ruthless  Destiny  ! 
Some  in  the  stifling  cell,  or  mine,  are  tombed — 
Some  rove  neglected  on  the  warring  sea; 
Yet  every  fate  is  such  as  it  should  be. 
Man  is  but  dust  in  Fate's  almighty  eye, 
Though  he  may  claim  to  immortality. 
And  deem  he  lives  when  dumb  his  ashes  lie — 
And  none  have  e'er  came  back  to  tell  him  how  to  die. 


"Man  is  but  dust  upon  the  wheel  of  life — 
As  it  revolves  so  he  must  circle  round  ; 
He  who  resists — in  the  unequal  strife — 
Is  first  into  insensate  powder  ground, 
While  still  unstopp'd  the  tireless  rim  will  bound. 
Man's  puny  arm  can  naught  of  use  avail, 

To  clamp  the  law  that  Fate  approveth  sound, 
At  best  he  can  his  helf)less  state  bewail. 
Or,  if  foolhardy,  at  its  mighty  author  rail." 


Thus  mused  Ben  Nebo,  as  across  the  skies 

He  saw  the  stars  their  pathless  courses  thread- 
The  wondrous  planets  from  the  east  arise, 

Or  in  the  west  their  paling  lustre  shed ; 

While  like  a  fiery  serpent,  overhead 
A  mighty  comet  meets  his  wondering  sight. 

And  fills  the  crew  with  superstitious  dread; 
Who  in  its  vast  array  of  ruddy  light, 
Behold  some  demon  fell  in  flaming  wrath  bedight. 


Majestic  wanderer,  wheeling  through  the  gloom 
With  none  to  guide  thee  in  thy  wayward  flight, 

What,  as  wind-fanned  thy  flames  terrific  loom. 
Doth  lead  thee  through  the  dark  involving  night. 
Or  steer  thy  bulk  'mongst  countless  spheres  aright? 

In  orb  erratic  doomed  for  aye  to  sweep. 

And  darkened  nations  with  thy  glance  affright; 

What  fate  is  thine  thus  tireless  on  to  leap. 
And  blast  with  quenchless  fires  the  vast  etherial  deep? 


In  vain  to  ask :   our  thoughts  to  earth  are  prest, 

Though  some  inspiring  wish  exalts  the  soul 
To  rise  above  the  grosser  sense,  and  quest 
The  mystic  marvels  that  above  us  roll, 
Or  deeper  seek  the  spirit's  subtle  goal; 
But  ah!   such  flights  a  sober  mind   denies, 
Pleased  with  its  little  earthly-natured  dole — 
'Tis  but  the  wandering  thought  that  heavenward  flies, 
Or  to  pierce  what  is  hid  with  pride  presuming  tries. 


'Tis  folly  when  the  rigid  will  of  fate 

Has  closed  the  Future  to  our  darkened  gaze, 
To  press  obtrusive  at  the  folded  gate, 

And  thread  unasked  the  unfrequented  maze ; 
For,  could  we  view  its  scenes,  anguish  might  craze 
Our  souls ;   or  we  might  see  in  dark  distress 

No  sign  of  bliss  to  cheer  our  ghostly  days; 
If  like  the  ox,  man  is  no  more  nor  less — 
Death  snuffs  the  spark  of  life  and  all  is  nothingness. 


But  yet  this  cannot  be ;   there  is  within 

This  ashy  casket  something  that  will  glow 
When  Earth  has  claimed  her  poor  terrestrious  kin, 

And  all  that  lived  is  laid  forever  low! 

As  dust  no  more  of  lingering  grief  to  know, 
A  spark  ignited  at  a  deathless  fire, 

A  soul  immortal,  yet  alive  to  woe 
And  bliss,  still  having  that  which  will  inspire 
It  with  transcendent  light  when  all  its  dregs  expire. 


'Tis  this  that  lifts  the  man  above  the  brute, 

Exalts  his  mind,  and  fires  his  soul  with  dreams 
Bright  and  incarnate — the  appointed  fruit 
Of  that  celestial  joy  which  ever  teems 
In  a  well  ordered  mind — a  mind  that  deems 
Its  great  Creator  the  sole  object  worth 

A  life-long  adoration ;  such  as  streams 
Spontaneous  from  the  ruder  tribes  of  earth 
When  in  united  strain  they  hail  fair  Nature's  birth. 


Sunk  are  the  bulwarks  of  the  winding  lands — 
On  every  side  the  boundless  sea  extends; 

Still  like  a  statue  fixed,  Ben  Nebo  stands. 

And  to  the  reckless  gales  his  anguish  sends — 
That  anguish  which  his  manly  bosom  rends ; 

For  he  was  one  whom  Fate  relentless  casts 
Upon  a  troubled  surge ;   nor  joy  descends 

To  shield  him  from  the  ever  howling  blasts 
That  shook  his  heart  like  winds  a  wreck's  unsteady  masts. 


"  Roll  on  ye  waves !   ye  loud-voiced  breezes  blow  ! 
Your  mournful  sounds  congenial  strike  my  ear; 
Although  there  falls  betimes  a  note  of  woe — 
A  mystic  sound  as  spirit-voices  drear 
That  wail  of  pleasures  lost  and  sorrows  near; 
Still,  still !   your  gloomy  diapasons  roll, 

And  bear  me  onward  as  ye  swift  career ; 
While  in  consonance  with  your  cries,  my  soul 
Shall  mingling  rise  and  sweep  through  Sorrow's  pensive  goal! 


"Shades  of  the  Past!    why  should  your  grisled  forms 
Eternal  haunt  my  vain-averted  sight? 
More  woful  ye  than  ocean's  windy  storms. 
Or  shaft  that  thunders  in  the  dreadful  tight, 
Or  bolt  that  hurtles  in  the  dead  of  night ; 
These  though,  too  oft  with  wrath  unseemly  fraught 

Smite  at  a  blow,  nor  long  the  fated  fright, 
But  ye  with  deathless  pangs  my  soul  hath  taught 
That  of  all  barbs  none  vie  with   sorrow-haunting  Thought. 


"Here  as  I  muse  amid  the  whirlwind's  wail. 

The  sea's  deep  sob,  the  mew's  complaining  cry, 
My  heart  pours  out  her  melancholy  tale 
Of  buried  joys  that  still  uncovered  lie, 
Though  darkly  sealed   from  each  obtrusive  eye. 
And  what  is  life  to  him  whose  bosom  owns 

Such  pangs  as  these  that  were  not  made  to  die.^ 
In  vain  for  respite  he  continual  groans. 
Or  flies  as  from  himself  to  earth's  remotest  zones." 


But  lo!  the  night  is  waning,  and  afar 

Morn's  early  blush  comes  dappling  o'er  the  verge ; 
Now  paler-gleams  each  white,  translucent  star. 

And  fairer  foams  the  onward-dashing  surge ; 

While  from  their  watery  beds,  the  gulls  emerge, 
And  shivering  sweep  across  the  wide  expanse. 

Still  on  her  course  fair  winds  the  vessel  urge. 
As  hope  beams  forth  in  every  wanderer's  glance. 
And  high  each  bosom  beats  as  round  the  waters  dance. 


Fair  was  the  voyage  till  on  the  hazy  lee 

The  Maori  shores  loomed  like  a  belt  of  blue, 

When  darkly  o'er  the  dim,  north-western  sea, 
A  murky  cloud  rose  ominous  to  view. 
And  whistling  winds  in  rising  gamuts  blew ; 

Anon  across  the  wild,  upsurging  tides 
Storm-boding  petrels  in  confusion  flew ; 

And  the  fleet  porpoise  o'er  the  surges  rides, 
And  far  to  calmer  seas  his  shape  unwieldy  guides. 


Firm  at  his  post  the  sun-browned  master  stands, 
Yet  views  with  awe  yon  wind-announcing  cloud ; 

For  on  his  lee  app)eared  New  Zealand's  strands. 
Half-hid  in  one  long,  dark  incumbent  shroud, 
And  far  beyond  with  devious  shoals  endowed. 

But  still  deep  versant  in  the  windy  jar, 

He  stood  alert,  though  hoarse  the  tempest  soughed. 

And  huge  o'er  many  a  circumjacent  bar 
The  frothy  breakers  raged  in  mad  vehement  war. 


He  stood  unmoved,  and  with  experienced  skill 

Prepared  his  ship  to  meet  the  coming  gale; 
E'en  now  resounding  through  the  rigging,  shrill — 

Tremendous  straining  on  the  belching  sail; 

While  rushed  the  seas  along  the  weather  rail 
Like  hoary  demons  thirsting  for  their  prey; 

Though  vainly  yet  they  can  her  sides  assail, 
They  rise  to  smite;   she  nimbly  glides  away, 
And  seems  with  those  dread  crests  like  a  coquette  to  play. 


Now  grouped  on  deck,  all  hands  in  dumb  suspense 
Watch  her  bold  course  along  the  watery  maze. 

And  as  they  look  to  windward,  looming  thence 
Like  some  weird  turrets  through  the  drifting  haze. 
Three  lonely  islets  strike  their  wond'ring  gaze; 

Upon  their  towering  cones  the  last  red  glare 
Of  dying  Eve  sheds  a  portentous  blaze, 

As  if  the  torch  of  Hell  had  kindled  there 
A  triple  fire  to  lure  sad  wanderers  to  despair. 


The  "Three  Kings"  these!   infixed  amid  the  flood, 

Like  sentries  grim  that  watch  the  outmost  shore 
Of  this  rude  land,  where  oft  barbaric  blood 

Is  made  in  sacrificial  founts  to  pour; 

When  the  fierce  shock  of  direful  battle  o'er, 
The  victors  haste  their  captives  to  devour; 

Like  ogres  foul,  exulting  lap  the  gore, 
And  deem  the  feast  their  gods  "appointed  dower — 
Such  is  this  race  on  whom  a  genius  dark  doth  lower. 


But  who  shall  blame,  since  Nature's  self  doth  urge 

These  savage  people  to  such  horrid  deeds; 
*Tis  her  edicts  that  form  as  they  diverge 

Our  various  states,  our  actions,  and  our  creeds; 

And  who  can  say  her  influence  e'er  misleads? 
To  follow  Nature,  is  but  to  obey 

That  potent  voice  which  in  each  bosom  pleads 
Against  all  that  our  pleasure  might  bewray, 
And  seeks  to  guide  us  on  the  prime  appointed  way. 


All  men  are  vile!   but  Fate  has  favored  some, 
And  raised  them  o'er  their  less  enlighten 'd  kind; 

Yet  all  from  the  same  dusty  substance  come, 
And  all  to  equal  follies  are  inclined. 
And  all  at  last  a  common  rest  must  find; 

Yet  earth-born  favors  shed  upon  a  few, 

Aft'ect  them  so,  they  fancy  Heaven  designed 

Them  as  superior  to  the  general  crew, 
When  peradventure  they  more  loathsome  wiles  pursue. 


But  hark!   the  gale  with  added  fury  blows, 

And  wilder  from  their  chains  the  waves  are  cast; 
Still  to  the  storm  our  ship  her  canvas  shows. 

Fearful  to  reef  until  to  starboard  past 

Those  three  lone  isles.     Then  from  each  shiv'ring  mast 
The  belching  sails  were  shortened  in  amain; 

Laborious  task!   to  furl  in  such  a  blast, 
Or  on  the  yard  a  footing  to  maintain 
When  deep  the  vessel  heels  as  ne'er  to  right  again. 


And  one  there  \vas  among  our  trusty  crew, 

Who  sought  the  lee  yard  arm — a  dangerous  post 

When  ^\^nds  like  these  so  energetic  blew. 

He  came  from  Candia,  somewhere  on  the  coast, 
And  in  his  youth,  as  he  was  wont  to  boast, 

Had  ser\ed  in  a  smart  Levantine  polacca ; 
And  oft  among  the  Turks,  his  corsair  host 

Would  single  out  some  ship,  board  her  and  sack  her, 
And  with  unchristian  gore  her  pitchy  timbers  lacker. 


Antonio  he  was  called;   nor  seaman's  life 
Than  his  career  had  e'er  so  chetjuer'd  been; 

With  stirring  acts  each  vivid  page  was  rife, 
Or  tinged  with  hues  of  many  a  Horid  scene. 
Such  as  invest  youth's  morn  with  dazzling  sheen. 

In  manhood's  prime  again  he  swept  the  seas. 
That  stretch  the  weird  Malaysian  isles  a-tween, 

And  oft  as  flashed  his  silver-glinting  krees, 
He  gave  his  pirate  banner  to  the  piping  breeze. 


'Twas  said  he  loved;   that  disai)pointment  fell, 
With  its  enduring  sting  had  smote  his  heart, 

And  made  of  life  an  ever- burning  hell, 

Till  all  of  good  expired  beneath  the  smart, 
And  demons  rose  to  play  their  horrid  part. 

He  had  the  air  of  one  subdued  by  grief — 
Of  one  who  bore  within  a  restless  dart, 

To  whom  no  thing  of  earth  could  bring  relief; 
But  in  his  lightest  hours  black  Misery  was  chief. 


But  that  was  past;  the  blow  had  come  and  gone; 

The  wound  was  healed,  though  still  the  scar  remained; 
And  oft  in  merriest  mood,  some  flash  upon 

His  soul  would  burst — and  there  awhile  detained — 

Writhe  with  a  woe  intense,  that  lingering  reigned 
Like  an  unconquered  sin;   till  Pride  would  bring 

His  iron  will  to  bear;    Peace  then  regained 
Stood  fast;   while  Memory's  envenomed  sting, 
Couched  in  her  lair,  prepared  to  make  her  cat-like  spring. 


Genius  of  ill !   that  ruthless  doth  awake 
The  buried  shadows  of  departed  years, 

And  on  our  souls  in  mournful  music  break 
The  dirges  of  the  dead;   and  bid  our  fears 
Rise  with  the  sound  dissolved  in  kindred  tears; 

Alas!    how  few  the  joys  thy  pencil  gilds; 

How  dark  the  scene  that  in  thy  lune  appears! 

When  retrosj)ection  sweeps  the  vanished  wilds — 
Her  even-  backward  glance  another  ruin  builds! 

He  who  hath  mused  until  his  mind  became 

A  boiling  gulf  of  fierce  tempestuous  thought, 
Where  fiends  disported  and  with  tongues  of  flame 

Up  from  the  deep  incessant  horrors  brought; 

Must  by  such  woe — such  hellish  sorrow  taught — 
Have  cursed  the  hour  of  his  nativity, 

And  longed  for  respite — respite  even  sought 
In  cold  Occlusion's  shadowy  apathy; 
For  soul  may  keenly  feel  when  pulse  hath  ceased  to  be. 


And  thus  Antonio:    by  continuous  woe 
From  cheerful  man  into  a  demon  turned; 

His  sullen  breast  still  owned  the  fatal  blow — 
Still  for  one  shade  his  manly  spirit  burned, 
One  lovely  shade  in  sweet  devotion  urned; 

And  his  bronze  cheek  was  plow'd  by  furrow'd  care, 
The  signals  of  a  love  that  ever  yearned, 

That  ever  felt  its  yearning  empty  air, 
Till  it  recoiling  sank  a  prey  to  grim  Despair. 


Withal  he  lived — the  wretched  often  live — 
When  happier  beings  find  untimely  tombs; 

Each  Fate  their  proper  state  doth  rightly  give — 
One  suffers  here — one  in  immortal  glooms — 
As  good  or  ill  their  future  being  dooms. 

So  lived  Antonio;   till  the  awful  roar 

Of  coming  Death  through  his  rude  nature  booms, 

Calling  his-  ghost  to  that  mysterious  shore, 
Whence  none  who  tread  its  maze  can  earth  again  explore. 


10 


High  swell  the  >^^nds,  as  up  the  tapering  stay 

Antonio  springs.     Thence  on  tlie  yard  he  goes, 
O'er  which  in  cascades  huge  the  surges  play — 

And  there  the  flapping  sail  he  snugly  stows. 

Whilst  thus  employ 'd,  aloft  the  vessel  rose 
On  a  vast  wave,  then  plunging  lurched  a-lee; 

The  quick  conN'ulsion  down  Antonio  throws 
From  his  loose  hold  into  the  whelming  sea, 
'Gainst  which  he  long  did  cojhj  in  mortal  agony. 


Hoarse  o'er  the  deck  the  dire  alarum  ran, 
And  far  astern  the  rattling  life-line  sped — 

Uncoiled  in  vain;   swift  from  the  drowning  man 
The  stooping  ship  in  long-vibrations  fled, 
.\nd  wintry  beat  the  wave  on  his  devoted  head. 

He  shouted;    but  his  shrill,  ear-piercing  cries 
Bay'd  but  the  winds  and  filled  our  hearts  with  dread 

As  fixed  perforce  we  stood;   whilst  from  our  eyes 
The  bubbling  drops  showed  how  we  mourned  the  sacrifice. 


'Twas  done!     The  drama  of  his  life  was  played; 

The  curtain  fell  and  all  of  earth  had  past; 
The  closing  debt  of  Nature  had  been  paid; 
The  full  account  of  his  existence  cast, 
And  the  obstructed  .soul  was  free  at  last. 
Nor  should  we  mourn  him,  or  at  his  swift  fate— 

If  sudden,  not  untimely — stand  aghast 
Since  once  we  all  must  j)ass  the  dreadful  gate, 
And  to  the  crawling  womi  our  temples  dedicate. 


White-starred  Orion  sinks  beyond  the  deep, 
And  calmer  now  the  dying  whirlwinds  beat; 

The  seas  decreasing  gradual  sink  to  sleep. 
And  clouds  disparting,  still  on  pinions  fleet 
To  leeward  borne,  career  in  wild  retreat — 

Subsides  the  storm;   the  night  revolving  wanes, 
And  mom  awakes  our  weary  eyes  to  greet; 

Then  o'er  the  void  a  calm  unbroken  reigns; — 
Three  days  the  vessel  hangs,  nor  breath  of  wind  obtains. 


11 


Three  days  wind-bound  she  burned  beneath  the  sun 
That  cloudless  shot  its  fiery-natured  rays; 

When,  as  the  eveninp^  shades  descended  dun, 
A  languid  breeze  across  the  ocean  plays — 
Its  urging  force  the  yielding  ship  obeys. 

Then  soon  upon  our  beam  a  coast  appear'd, 

Whose  vernal  heights  awoke  our  loudest  praise — 

Whilst  Expectation,  every  bosom  cheer'd. 
As  tow'rd  the  smiling  shore  our  wonted  course  we  veer'd. 


He  who  hath  tost  upon  the  restless  seas 

Whilst  months  unvaried  rolled  above  his  head — 

Dull  months,  surcharged  with  grim  uncertainties. 
And  all  the  dangerous  toils  the  deeps  bestead 
On  such  as  may  their  treacherous  mazes  thread; 

How  hath  he  felt  his  pulse  vibrate  anew 
When  slow  emerging  from  its  watery  bed — 

Thin  as  a  vaj)or  and  as  ether  blue. 
Some  land's  dim  outline  beamed  auspicious  to  his  view 

High  beat  our  hearts  as  brighter  morning  grew. 

And  dim  revealed,  amid  the  purple  haze — 
As  silky  mists  aside  their  curtains  drew — 

A  lofty  shore,  to  each  expectant  gaze. 

A  shore  with  beauty  clad,  that  might  amaze 
The  ardent  Moslem,  who  in  feverish  dreams 

Foresees  that  blissful  land,  where  houries'  blaze, 
Sweet  gardens  bloom,  and  by  clear-tinkling  streams, 
The  faithful  gently  rest  while  Joy  perpetual  beams. 


Such  this  fair  land.     Soon  on  the  placid  tide 
Near  quiet  Auckland  we  at  anchor  swing; 

Anon  with  rapid  keel  the  wave  divide, 

As  in  the  launch  our  sweeps  resounding  spring — 
To  shoreward  bent  on  subtle  bartering. 

The  strand  attained;    out  from  the  boat  we  leap 
And  join  a  troop  of  savages,  who  bring 

Barbaric  objects  all  cast  in  a  heap, 
Which  like  sly  Jews  they  vow  to  barter  very  cheap. 


12 


We  met  these  natives  several  leagues  north-west 
Of  Auckland;   on  a  wide  and  barren  shore 

Where  spir}'  fern-trees  waved  in  wild  unrest, 
And  rifted  rocks  with  yellow  lichens  hoar 
Strew'd  the  sea's-margin  in  confusion  oer. 

Whilst  far  south-east,  a  lonely  mountain  rose, 
Whose  peak  no  foot  had  ventured  to  explore, 

For  thus  the  wise-men  say — the  legend  goes — 
That  round  its  granite  head  a  storm  malignant  blows. 


Extending  west  two  lofty  peaks  appear, 

Once  horrid  in  volcanic  energy. 
But  now  extina;   bold,  ru^ed,  bleak  and  sere, 

They  sullen  stand  in  sad  tor|)idity, 

Whilst  round  their  craters  mingled  hideously 
Huge  scoria-blocks  oppress  the  rocky  sides, — 

Huge  lava-tracks  still  rug  the  blasted  lea — 
Or  from  the  ledge  that  land  and  sea  divides 
In  shivering  columns  yawn  above  the  chafing  tides. 


'Twas  daring  Tasman  and  his  roving  crew 

Who  first  these  islands  in  their  wanderings  found; 

When  hither  led  in  quest  of  countries  new; 

Then  heard  one  night  the  rolling  breakers  sound, 
The  next  at  anchor  lay  in  harbor-bound; 

Upon  thy  cliflfs  Eaheianowmawe,  first 

His  vision  glanced;  yet  must  his  teeth  have  ground 

When  thee,  or  Tavia  Poenamoo,  he  burst 
From  his  torn  jaws.    Lud,  how  the  Dutchman  must  have  curst ! 


But  if  infernal  in  their  names,  these  isles 

Are  by  boon  Nature  with  rich  gifts  endow 'd 
Such  as  few  lands  may  boast.     Yet  vicious  wiles 

Their  copper  hosts  in  a  dark  mantle  cloud. 

A  stalwart  race  are  they,  self-will'd  and  proud, 
Revengeful,  fierce,  and  as  a  tiger  cruel; 

Thus  when  a  foe  is  caught  th'  inhuman  crowd 
Consign  him  to  a  stack  of  blazing  fuel; 
Then  eat  him  with  the  gust  of  Scotchmen  eating  gruel. 


13 


Meanwhile  as  on  the  sandy  beach  we  stood, 
A  runner  from  an  ancient  chieftain  came 

Desiring  us  to  visit — if  we  would — 

His  kingly  home,  as  helpless,  old  and  lame 
He  lay  bed-ridden — living  on  the  fame 

Won  when  he  joy'd  in  manhood's  vigorous  prime. 
Ere  long  we  went — for  commerce  was  our  aim- 

And  led,  began  a  mountain-side  to  climb. 
Till  reached  a  grot  we  saw  a  relic  of  old  Time. 


Dark  was  the  grot,  worn  in  a  hollow  crag 
Impending  from  the  mount's  basaltic  side, 

Mete  dwelling  for  some  foul  night-haunting  hag; 
Or  yelling  ghost,  or  evil  thing  to  bide. 
Or  witch  her  spell  to  ply  at  eventide. 

Blood-freezing,  too,  as  Winter's  frigid  scowl, 

This  maori  dread;   where  many  chiefs  had  died; 

And  gave  their  flesh  to  the  carnivorous  fowl, 
Which  wheeling  overhead  in  doleful  flocks  did  howl. 


We  boldly  prest  into  the  gloomy  grot. 

And  soon  distinguish'd  through  the  twilight  shade 
A  withered  being  on  a  leafy  cot. 

By  a  slow  fire,  almost  untended  laid. 

But  one,  a  dark  and  pleasant-featur'd  maid 
Stood  by  the  couch  of  her  expiring  sire; 

In  gleaming  jad  and  maro  white  array 'd, 
While  oft  she  smote  a  rude,  canorous  lyre 
As  if  to  soothe  the  soul  so  wrought  with  anguish  dire. 


Bu^  when  the  dusky  maid  ourselves  beheld. 
She  ceas'd  to  play  and  trembled  in  afi"right, 

While  frequent  sobs  in  sad  succession  well'd 
From  her  lorn  breast.     Betimes  a  xarying  light 
Glanc'd  from  her  eyes,  dark  as  the  noon  of  night. 

She  seemed  so  kind,  so  beautiful,  so  good, 
That  the  most  rugged  softened  at  the  sight; 

And  wrapt  in  wonder  bold"  Ben  Nebo  stood, 
While  warm  Desire  aroused  the  current  of  his  blood. 


14 


Nor  deem  him  weak  within  whose  fier)-  veins 
Love's  gushing  torrent  rolls  its  molten  stream, 

'Tis  Nature's  self,  this  v.ondrous  law  ordains, 

And  cliarms  the  sense  with  glowing  thoughts,  that  seem 
But  the  wild  fancies  of  a  heated  dream. 

'Tis  Nature's  self  ihat  cheers  this  lower  state 
With  Love's  magnetic  and  exciting  l>eam; 

That  man  may  feel — and  feeling  recreate 
In  pleasures  which  the  dreams  of  Heaven  ante-date. 


But  if  each  breast  in  loving  tumult  heaved, 

Still  it  was  held  within  decorous  bound, 
For  all  were  with  the  sad  event  aggrieved 

And  sorrow'd  for  the  maid  in  anguish  drown'd; 

For  men  at  limes  with  humane  hearts  are  found. 
And  gazing  on  the  chief — a  deep-drawn  sigh 

Foretold  th'  event.     Mad-like  he  glared  around. 
In   Deaths  rude  grasp  convuls'd.     Then  glaz'd  his  eye, 
The  dank  sweat  stood  upon  his  brow — he  soon  must  die. 


Ere  long  he  went  the  ever  solemn  way 

That  all  'must  pass  who  eat  of  mortal  food; 

And  as  inane  u|>on  the  couch  he  lay. 

His  beauteous  child  with  tears  his  brow  bedew'd, 
And  fragrant  flowers  upon  his  bosom  strew'd. 

Anon  with  pliant  hand  her  liarp  she  strung, 
And  sang  his  praise  in  elegiac  rude; 

Sonorous  forth  her  plaintive  voice  she  flung, 
And  Echo  shrill  replied  the  answ'ring  woods  among. 


Ben  Nebo  heard  enrapt  those  ditties  wild. 
As  at  the  cavern's  mouth  he  i)ensive  stood 

Gazing  upon  the  maid,  by  love  beguil'd. 
In  feverish,  dreamy  and  uncertain  mood. 
As  passion  kindled  in  his  glowing  blood. 

Yet  he  was  not  of  common  dust;    he  dealt 
Severely  with  the  sports  of  Earth,  pursued 

By  her  poor  parasites.     Yet  now  he  felt — 
Ignoble  thought!   his  heart  in  soft  affection  melt. 


15 


Nor  proof  against  his  love-inciting  glance 

Was  she — nymph  of  this  rude  volcanic  glade; 

Coy  in  her  tearful  eye  a  flash  would  dance 
That  could  alight  a  hermit's  bosom  staid, 
And  oft  had  havoc  of  lorn  striplings  made. 

Her  gaze  on  Nebo  fell,  and  added  flame 
On  his  awaking  love  was  surely  laid. 

His  whole  frame  kindled.     He  was  not  the  same 
Now  as  erstwhile  unto  this  fated  place  he  came. 


Ere  long  a  troop  of  Maori's  thread  the  cave, 

And  bade  the  maiden  hasten  swift  away; 
For  day  hung  trembling  o'er  the  western  wave, 

And  fixed  for  sea  their  lengthy  barges  lay; 

Obedient  to  their  will  she  ceased  to  play, 
And  sobbing  left  the  cell;    whilst  all  our  band 

Departing,  coursed  the  deep-ilcscending  way. 
But  yet  afore  we  reached  the  open  strand 
Gray  shadows  stooped  ui)On  the  circumambient  land. 


And  when  the  sea's  wide  margin  was  attain'd — 
When  sooty  Night  her  veil  incumbent  spread 

On  flood  and  fell,  with  keen  emotion  pain'd, 
We  found  that  Nebo,  who  had  walked  ahead, 
Had  from  the  ranks  most  singularly  fled. 

The  alarum  given;   at  a  halt  we  stood, 

Unslung  our  firelocks,  and,  with  stealthy  tread 

Through  the  dark  glen  our  restless  search  j)ursued, 
And  oftentimes  we  {)aused  and  lustily  hallooed. 


In  vain;    but  Echo,  from  her  weird  recess 

Repeating,  murmured  to  each  wild  halloo; 
Till  with  misgivings  none  would  fain  express, 

We  stopp'd  awhile  uncertain  what  to  do; 

When  from  a  copse  near  by,  a  whistle  blew. 
And  instantly  a  shower  of  arrows  fell 

Among  our  ranks.     At  once  to  arms  we  flew, 
Pour'd  forth  a  volley,  which  produced  a  yell 
From  the  swart  wretches.     Then,  we  turned  and  crost  the  dell. 


16 


And  on  a  ridge,  like  tigers  held  at  bay, 

We  kept  our  station  all  that  ling'ring  night, 

Unmoved  till  dawn;    then  formed  in  close  array 
We  made  a  charge  to  terminate  the  fight — 
We  charged,  and  put  the  siwages  to  flight; 

Then  as  we  chased  the  |)anic-stricken  men, 
Our  hearts  no  mercj'  knew;    but  grim  delight 

We  felt,  ai>  furious  through  the  rugged  glen 
We  gave  them  rolls  of  shot  until  they  howled  again. 


Still  Nebo  came  not;   nor  a  single  trace 

Of  him,  far  as  we  sought  was  visible. 
Sudden  he  disappear'd,  and  at  a  place 

Where  woods  of  densest  growth  o'er-hung  the  fell, 

And  splinter'd  chasms  yawned  all  terrible — 
Here  he  was  lost;   tho'  through  what  cause,  in  vain 

We  strove  to  know.     Still  most  believed  the  .spell 
That  bore  him  hence,  was  that  pernicious  bane 
Of  weak-souled  man — a  woman — save  this  canting  strain! 


Is  woman,  then,  a  source  of  ill  to  man? 

It  cannot  be!     'Twas  Nature  sent  her  here 
His  ills  to  soothe,  but  not  his  ire  to  fan; 

To  temper  every  blast  that  circles  near; 

To  love  and  cheer  him  as  a  being  dear. 
For  this  she  lives;   and  as  your  husband  teaches, 

Your  matron  follows  up  her  part  austere — 
Hugs,  cooks,  doats,  toils,  and  even  neatly  stitches 
That  most  rejmlsive  thing — a  jKiir  of  worn  out  breeches. 


Is  woman,  then,  the  enemy  of  man.? 

She  who  will  love  him  so  that  e'en  his  pants — 
Snip's  curse  upon  them!    pass  beneath  her  scan. 

And  those  sweet  eyes  that  kindle  at  a  glance 

O'er  torn  limb-covers  sharply  look  askance. 
Is  she  his  foe.^     She  who  would  do  all  this? 

Hear  Echo  answer,  no!     What  can  enhance 
Man's  comfort  more — What  so  increase  his  bliss, 
As  a  sweet  woman  who  in  nothing  is  remiss? 


.17 


A  truce  to  preaching.     As  the  sun  declined 

We  reached  our  boats  and  o'er  the  chafing  main 

Swift-puUing  sought  the  brig,  aggrieved  to  find 
No  sign  of  our  lost  comrade;    but  again 
Resolved  to  press  no  more  the  Maori  plain, 

Straitway  uphove  our  chain;   and  smart  the  breeze 
That  filled  our  sails.     Yet  as  we  toiled  amain, 

A  seaman,  on  the  beach  a  figure  sees; 
And  cries  vociferous  rise  in  sounding  melodies. 


Our  task  laborious  for  awhile  we  stay'd; 

Our  glasses  on  the  stranger  bring  to  bear, 
And  gladly  scan  through  the  involving  shade 

Our  bold  Ben  Nebo.     Soon  a  lusty  pair 

Of  oarsmen  in  the  gig,  no  labor  spare 
To  fetch  the  truant  to  his  pitchy  home. 

Thence  safe  install'd,  he  told  with  simple  air 
How  he  from  the  land-rovers  came  to  roam; 
But  we'll  be  brief,  for  all  he  said  would  fill  a  tome. 


The  cause  of  his  evanishment,  was  this: 

That  being  caught  in  Love's  pernicious  snare, 

He  had  determined — though  he  went  to  Dis — 
To  seize  the  dusky  maid — and  perforce  bear 
Her  to  the  brig.     Yet  ere  the  deed  he  dare 

Attempt,  a  band  of  Maoris  plac'd  amid 
A  thicket  sent  a  shower  of  arrows  fair 

A-past  his  ears;    but  the  thick  darkness  hid 
Him  from  their  aim.     He  fled;   and  where  a  pyramid 


Of  rock  arose  he  made  a  warlike  stand 

Against  the  cruel  hordes  that  battled  round; 

But  when  in  pieces  flew  his  shivered  brand. 
Death  had  indeed  the  misadventure  crown'd 
Had  he  in  timely  flight  no  refuge  found. 

Thence  safe  he  lay  conceal'd  in  forest  close, 
Whilst  serpent-like  his  crafty  foe-men  wound 

Through  the  dark  wood.     At  length  reliev'd  of  foes, 
He  sallied  from  his  lair  and  to  the  sea-shore  gees. 


18 


But  though  escap'd  with  life,  he  was,  in  sooth, 

A  man  of  grief — sad  to  the  last  degree — 
For  hopeless  Love  frowned  on  his  oj^ening  youth, 

And  ever)'  year  increased  his  miser)'; 

But  still  his  cup  full  as  it  seem'd  to  be, 
Was  yet  to  darken  with  a  deadlier  gall; 

A  wilder  wave  must  nxg  his  angry  sea; 
A  dismal  blast  descend  surpassing  all — 
And  gloomy  Desolation  on  his  bos(Mii  fall. 


Avast!   let  Luna-smitten  songsters  sing 

The  pangs  of  hojieless  I-X)vc  in  measured  state! 
We,  who  cold-blooded  are  in  every  thing 

Are  somewhat  skeptic  on  that  pensive  fate — 

The  ghostly  vajx)r  of  a  morbid  pate. 
If  such  there  be — as  poets  represent — 

Unhappy  lovers  forced  to  separate. 
And  moan  through  drear)'  years  with  sorrow  shent, 
Then  by  the  gods  'tis  well  when  they  with  earth  are  blent 


Three  weeks  revolve:   and  now  afloat  again 
We  sweep  excursive  o'er  the  lawless  wave; 

Nor  aught  of  ill  ex|)erience;    nor  restrain 

Our  course,  till  Farewell,  from  his  briny  grave 
Cloud-cappd  ascends.     Then  rude  the  tempests  rave; 

But  nautic  skill  prevails  their  fury  o'er. 

And  smoother  seas  at  length  our  channels  lave; 

North-curving  now  we  seek  the  broken  shore, 
Press  through  the  boisterous  straits  and  see  the  Cape  no  more. 


Chain-bound  we  swing.     Ashore  the  seamen  leap; 

Engage  in  barter  with  a  swarthy  band, 
Who  had  of  native  wares  a  motley  heap, 

Such  as  are  wrought  by  many  a  skilful  hand — 

By  nature  taught — within  this  unknown  land; 
And  they — the  people — were  a  noble  race — 

Few  forms  so  perfect  eye  of  limner  scann'd; 
Yet  quaint  tattoo  disfigured  every  face, 
Where  untam'd  Passion  left  its  grim,  repellent  trace. 


19 


Uncouth  the  manners  of  these  vengeful  tribes — 

As  polar  night  their  minds  barbaric  dark; 
These  briefly  th'  untutored  muse  describes, 

Or  rather  customs  worthy  of  remark; 

Thus,  wlien  in  death  a  ^Iaori  lieth  stark, 
They  think  three  days  from  thence,  his  heart  away 

Is  borne,  closed  in  a  shell  of  kouri  bark, 
By  a  huge  angel,  swift  to  climes  that  lay 
Beyond  the  molten  disk,  there  as  a  soul  to  stay. 


Here  in  the  midst  of  pleasure,  quite  at  ease 

The  hearty  ghost  maintains  an  envied  state — 
Alone  it  lives.     No  other  ghost  can  tease 

(Jr  maul,  when  once  't  has  left  its  fleshy  weight 

Like  an  old  chrysalis,  to  dessicate 
On  this  dry  earth.     But  in  that  blest  abode 

All  sorts  of  pleasures  tend  to  elevate; 
Which  to  enjoy,  should  make  a  man  unload 
Life's  mighty  burden,  and  pursue  so  fair  a  road. 


And  suicide,  that  rather  doubtful  act 
The  stolid  Maori  deems  a  proj^er  deed; 

Nor  on  the  couch  of  anguish  long  be  rack'd, 
When  from  a  scratch  an  artery  can  bleed. 
And  his  good  heart  from  every  trouble  freed, 

Find  sweet  repose  in  its  appointed  Heaven; 

But  women  most,  who  most  may  Heaven  need. 

Affect  this  sort  of  soul-exalting  leaven; 
And  to  one  man  self-slain  of  women  there  are  seven, 


For  instance,  'tis  a  very  common  thing. 

For  maids  to  whom  Love's  favors  come  amiss. 
To  end  their  mishaps  by  a  sliding  string, 

And  slip  their  souls  into  eternal  bliss — 

A  most  judicious  policy  is  this. 
Ay,  even  matrons  who  have  wrought  to  passion 

Their  loving  lords,  and  felt  a  cudgel  kiss 
Their  shoulders,  have  eschewed  another  lashin'. 
By  cutting  their  dear  throats.     A  very  worthy  fashion. 


20 


And  quite  worth  copying  by  our  christian  dames; 

As  then  of  nuptial  ills  there  mijj^ht  Ix?  less, 
And  less  of  those  debasing  midnight  games, 

That  sometimes  Wedlock's  votaries  distress, 

With  pangs  that  celibates  could  ne'er  depress. 
For  if  they  used  the  Maori's  hard  decree — 

That  wives  when  flogg'd  should  turn  to  nothingness, 
A  horsewhip  would  set  ill-match'd  couples  free, 
Silence  their  growls — egad!   and  help  morality. 


But  if  from  saN'age  ethics  we  should  scorn 
To  learn,  let  us  the  fierce  liarbarian  view 

With  some  attention,  as  of  fable  shorn 
He  stands  in  his  primeval  nature  true, 
Disclosing  traits  that  moralists  may  rue. 

How  strange  the  i)hases  of  our  mortal  race! 
How  strong  in  all  is  evil  shadow'd  through! 

How  hard  to  deem  such  grovelling  things  the  place, 
The  shrine,  of  a  pure  flame  that  time  cannot  efface! 


But  who  shall  judge.-*     Perhaps  in  the  vilest,  dwells 
That  which  may  live  when  planets  have  expired; 

There  is  in  man  a  monitor  that  tells 
Of  an  immortal  something;    but  enwired 
In  fleshly  coils,  that  yield  not  as  desired; 

It  lies  in  cryptic  bars  im bound,  close  pent 
Like  a  caged  eagle,  whose  spirit  fired 

With  thoughts  exultant  as  for  Heaven  meant — 
Shackled  remains — a  soul — with  callow  ashes  blent. 


Terrific  thought!     Is  man  a  deathless  thing.? 

Will  he  exist  when  known  no  longer  here? 
If  so,  'tis  well  to  give  up  vaporing 

And  trim  the  sails  anew;    nor  more  career 

In  those  fell  tracks  through  which  so  many  steer. 
Life's  but  a  dream — a  little  puppet  show — 

Compared  to  what  may  be  beyond  the  bier; 
If  all  its  years  were  prest  into  one  woe, 
They  would  not  make  the  wise  one  joy  of  Heaven  forego. 


21 


What  is  this  world;    what  are  its  trifling  joys 
To  him  who  hears  the  last  sad  tocsin  sound? 

When  all  that's  beautiful  his  fancy  cloys, 
And  his  wan  sight,  wliere'er  it  glares  around 
Sees  but  a  hollow  in  the  yawning  ground. 

How  vain,  how  pigmy,  then  all  earth  appears, 
How  dread  the  future  deep  in  horrors  drowned. 

How  much  the  soul  the  doubtful  exit  fears; 
And  anguish  in  each  sigh  foreboding  Conscience  hears. 


Enough  of  this  cant,  theologic  stuflf— 

Out  on  the  man  who  would  his  betters  teach! 

He  merits  for  his  pains  a  sound  rebuff; 

For  'tis  the  height  of  impudence  to  preach, 
Or  with  rude  sense  the  chafing  rabble  teach. 

The  wisest  mind  will  on  itself  revert, 

And  by  exi)erience  warned,  like  flint,  to  each 

Gregarian  sentiment  remain  inert; 
The  dullest  student  thinks  the  wisest  tutor  pert. 


Whilst  thronged  upon  the  shell-bespangled  strand 
Our  men  a  commerce  with  the  blacks  essay 'd. 

The  chief  Tom-a-tee-wa-kee,  and  a  band 
Of  giant  guards,  a  first  appearance  made, 
Stalking  ih  lordly  pride  the  vernal  glade. 

A  man  of  war  this  chief— 'his  endless  name 
Was  syllabled  afar.     'Twas  grimly  said 

That  when  Tasman  unto  this  island  came, 
He  ate  a  whole  boat's  crew  and  made  a  deathless  fame. 


As  on  the  beach  he  stood,  his  tawny  hand 

Vain-glorious  swayed  a  stony-headed  spear; 
Two  anklets  wrought  of  jad  his  ankles  spann'd. 

And  coral  drops  hung  pendant  from  each  ear; 

But  what  the  timid  most  did  strike  with  fear, 
Were  blood-red  patches  o'er  his  features  smear'd, 

So  that  he  made  a  figure  rather  queer 
To  contemplate;   but  woe  to  such  as  sneer'd, 
Since  in  his  own  conceit,  perfection  he  appeared. 


22 


Nor  on  his  face  alone  vermilion  glowed, 

Big  rings  of  crimson  'bout  his  limbs  were  placed, 
Whilst  lurid  moons  in  hideous  glor)'  showed 

A  wavering  cluster  round  his  naked  waist, 

By  a  light  maro  negligently  braced. 
A  king  he  was:    beneath  a  moa's  plume 

He  slootl  like  some  old  god  in  splendor  graced, 
Whose  glance  might  |)enetrate  the  farthest  glotim; 
Bid  Nature  smile  serene,  or  funeral  garbs  assume. 


But  most  he  gloried  in  an  ornament 
That  kings  had  seldom  worn  upon  their  backs, 

Save  when  u|)on  the  scaffold  overbent; 
It  was  but  a  ship-car|)enter's  broad-axe 
Fit  to  fell  spars  or  beat  off  deck  attacks; 

Which  as  a  present  came  from  Captain  Cook, 
Who  sent  it  by  a  dozen  well-armed  jacks. 

The  shining  pledge  our  chief  delighted  took — 
Then  hung  it  from  his  neck  to  make  him  better  look. 


Meanwhile  we  traded;   and  like  traders  smart, 

Extoll'd  our  own  and  damn'd  the  Maori  wares; 
In  short,  engaged  in  every  trading  art — 

To  plant  our  coils  or  scape  our  neighbor's  snares; 

For  he  who  in  commercial  matters  spares. 
Is  a  mere  fool;   since  if  our  sight  be  true 

Twould  be  as  safe  to  thread  brigandish  lairs 
With  a  fat  wallet;   as  in  business,  to 
Look  for  fair-dealing  when  so  many  like  to  jew. 


When  the  Sinopean  with  his  greasy  link 
Went  barking  out  to  seek  an  honest  man, 

He  must  have  been  a  little  daft,  to  think 

That  with  a  common  flambeau,  he  could  scan 
That  creature  never  known  since  time  began. 

Though  often  sought,  remaining  still  unknown; 
A  phoenix  in  the  great  creative  plan; — 

A  priceless  gift  from  human  bosoms  flown; 
Enough  to  make  a  god  though  held  itself  alone. 


23 


"An  honest  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God": — 
So  wrote  that  curt,  incisive  genius,  Pope; 
And,  whilst  accordant  to  its  truth  we  nod, 
The  axiom  cuts  into  the  heart  of  Hope, 
And  Nature  vainly  emulates  the  trope. 
Withal,  the  world  survives  the  bitter  loss, 
Or,  if  it  feel,  can  with  its  sorrow  coj>e. 
An  honest  man  no  doubt — like  gold  in  dross — 
Might  with  pure  lustre  shine;    but  who  would  bear  his  cross? 


To  be  eccentric  by  the  mob  is  deemed 
A  woful,  or  at  least  unseemly,  sign; 

An  independent  mind  is  ill  esteemed. 
By  oafs  who  never  trespass  on  the  line 
Which  Fashion  sets,  her  vassals  to  confine. 

Hence  woe  to  him  who,  in  this  l)iping  age, 

Would  as  an  "honest  man"  his  course  define — 

Right  soon  would  he  in  Bedlam  find  a  cage. 
Or  in  inch  peices  rent  attest  the  public  rage. 


Go  to,  thou  preacher — cease  thy  irksome  strain! 

These  dull,  long-winded  dissertations  fly; 
Resume  thy  j)rime  discourse,  and  tell  again 

How  pass'd  events  our  hardy  seamen  by. 

Soon  as  dusk  Kve  in  shadows  brooded  nigh, 
A  maid  ap])ears!     Fair  is  her  blooming  form, 

And  coy  the  glance  of  her  expressive  eye; 
Long  are  her  locks,  and  red  her  lips,  and  warm 
Her  winning  smile — 'twould  take  the  coldest  heart  by  storm. 


Clad  in  such  charms,  no  wonder  if  this  maid 
Were  by  our  heroes  very  much  admired; 

For  man  is  with  such  wanton  thoughts  inlaid 
That  by  a  simple  look  his  blood  is  fired. 
And  Reason  sinks  in  sodden  passion  mired. 

Pale  Virtue,  then,  completely  jmt  to  rout, 

Retreats  till  Pleasure  gains  what  Love  desired; 

Which,  after  all,  is  hardly  worth  a  flout — 
Venus  insidious  lures,  then  rudely  turns  you  out. 


34 


Pernicious  goddess!   sent  to  trouble  man 
With  thy  all-powerful — all-alluring  bane; 

Chief  of  our  ills,  since  mother  Eve  began 
To  long  for  that  whose  sad  effect  was  Cain — 
Whose  sad  effect  still  haunts  the  human  strain. 

Nor  with  the  heart  alone  thy  mission  ends; 
But  at  thy  mercy  oft  our  purse  is  lain; 

And  when  thy  worshipper  his  cash  expends, 
Cast  from  thy  arms  to  rot  the  hapless  wretch  descends. 

As  stood  the  maid  within  an  etsy  ken, 

Ned  liastion's  eyes  her  buxom  charms  explore; 

With  heated  blood  he  gazed,  deep  blushing,  when 
Her  eyes  gave  forth  their  hot,  electric  store, 
And  conjured  fancies  full  of  love  galore. 

She,  too,  obedient  to  a  subtle  power. 

Felt  weird  sensations  through  her  bosom  pour; 

And  shivering  at  the  lad's  magnetic  lower. 
Shrunk  like  some  tender  plant  that  at  the  storm  doth  cower. 


Ned  saw  her  tremor,  and  like  a  bold  tar — 
Never  to  war,  or  grog,  or  love  averse — 

Resolved  to  win  the  prize,  should  nothing  mar 
The  course  he  laid.     So  first  his  beaded  purse 
He  gave  to  smooth  the  way — ne'er  a  whit  worse 

For  such  fair  grading.     Then  his  wiles  he  plied. 
Till  close-besieged  Love  cried  for  quarter;   terse 

Was  his  answer.     As  fell  the  eventide. 
Afar  with  glowing  steps  he  bore  the  willing  bride. 


The  bull-horn 'd  moon  above  the  woods  arose, 

Diffusing  round  a  pale,  mysterious  light, 
When  from  an  arduous  search,  the  sailors  close, 

And  meditate  on  Ba.stion's  sudden  flight. 

Some  wished  to  seek  him  even  thro'  the  night, 
But  others  on  the  project  sternly  frowned. 

And  urged  it  best  to  wait  till  morn,  when  right 
They  could  the  wilds  explore.     Meanwhile  profound 
And  dense,  confluent  clouds  the  waning  orb  surround. 


25 


While  yet  they  stood  in  doubtful  council  bound, 
Led  by  the  mate,  who  acted  as  their  chief, 

A  lengthen'd  yell  burst  from  the  woods  around. 
Grim-startling  all.     At  once  for  fell  relief 
To  arms  they  flew;   and  from  a  neighboring  reef 

Stood  fast — whilst    arrows  sped  in  whistling  showers, 
Sore-wounding  several — and  one  man,  Tom  Keef, 

Death-laying  on  the  rock.     Fierce  battle  lowers. 
Shots,  yells,  and  imprecations  fill  the  silvan  bowers. 


But  such  a  stream  of  missiles  on  them  rained, 
That  they  at  last  were  driven  to  the  beach; 

And  leaping  in  their  boats,  awhile  sustained 
The  brunt  unflinching,  pent  within  the  reach 
Of  the  barbaric  darts.     At  length,  when  each 

Had  half-a-dozen  hideous  injuries  got, 

They  desp'ratc  grew,  together  made  a  breach, 

And  raked  the  foe  with  fusilades  of  shot. 
Whilst  heaps  of  swarthy  dead  begrimed  th'  accursed  spot. 


Meanwhile  they  set  the  carpenter  to  work, 
Who  of  some  timbers  built  a  sturdy  screen; 

Behind  this  all  the  crew  did  closely  lurk. 
And  fire  whene'er  the  crafty  foes  were  seen 
To  issue  from  their  covert,  and  between 

The  arching  trees  discharge  their  weapons  rude. 
But  though  our  men  maintain'd  a  dauntless  mien. 

The  Maoris  were  with  such  fierce  rage  endued, 
That  neither  vantage  gained  in  the  protracted  feud. 


While  yet  the  seamen  held  their  wav'ring  state, 
A  sullen  boom  rolled  o'er  the  ruffled  deep: 

A  signal  from  the  ship,  bidding  the  mate 

And  his  bold  comrades  from  the  battle  keep. 
And  swift  unto  the  waiting  vessel  sweep. 

They  heed  the  summons:   soon  her  pitchy  walls 
Receive  them  from  the  waves  that  warring  leap. 

The  windlass  arm;   and  as  the  tempest  falls. 
Heave  round  the  rattling  coils  tim'd  by  the  clanging  pauls. 


''V£Ra,T.  \ 


26 


The  moon  recedes  beyond  the  misty  west, 
And  all  around  but  foaming  billows  play; 

Swift  wing  the  frigate-birds  in  wild  unrest, 
And  shrieking  the  descending  orbic  bay, 
Whilst  fast  the  trader  plows  her  onward  way. 

The  land  is  gone,  no  more  its  rocky  arms 
A  shelter  lend,  no  more  its  shoals  betray; 

All,  all  have  pass'd,  and  sea-born  storms  and  calms, 
And  terrors  unexpress'd  here  vent  their  dread  alarms. 


Canto     II. 


Ye  shrill  sea-breezes  that  so  plaintive  sigh 
O'er  the  bleak  bosom  of  the  slee])less  sea: — 

Sing  as  resounds  your  doleful  lullaby. 
Of  .such  as  exiled  from  the  peaceful  lea, 
Feel  thy  sharp  fangs  in  full  .severity; 

In  thunder  tones,  O  ocean!   roll  along 

The  dark,  dark  woe  of  those  whom  Destiny 

Dooms  o'er  the  lawless  wave  their  course  prolong- 
Caerulean  Neptune  join,  O  join  the  mournful  song! 


As  the  free  bird  that  cleaves  the  boundless  air 
With  nought  to  interrupt  her  forward  flight. 

So  once  again  the  dashing  sea  we  dare. 
And  fly  exultant  on  the  tempest's  might, 
While  swift  astern  the  billow  flashes  white; 

And  sweet  the  joy  we  feel,  when  piping  loud 
The  wild  wind  whistles  round  the  topmast  light. 

Strains  the  taut  sail  and  murmurs  thro'  the  shroud, 
Whilst  on  the  good   ship  flies  with  vibrant  force  endowed. 


Lost  was  Ned  Bastion.     Oblivion  drew 

O'er  him  a  veil  which  none  could  penetrate; 

Nor  to  be  lifted,  till  with  hand  anew 
Upon  the  tablets  of  omniscient  Fate, 
Should  rise  cxpos'd  each  vague,  mysterious  trait. 

So  let  him  rest.     Nor  on  his  errors  dwell; 
Nor  anxious  on  his  doubtful  end  debate — 

Since  'tis  the  same,  where'er  we  cast  the  shell 
When  we  shall  cease  to  be,  all  equal  slumber  well. 


Cook's  fretful  Straits  have  far  to  windward  past, 

And  smiling  skies  inspire  each  hopeful  breast; 
The  course  for  Santelmo  is  set;   and  fast 

Before  fresh  aiding  gales  the  trader  prest; 

And  by  no  ill-presaging  sign  distrest. 
The  men  rejoice.     To  merriment  give  rein; 

Huge  canteens  flow — rude  music  adds  its  zest; 
They  dance,  they  revel,  and  they  sing  amain; 
And  long  as  storms  permit  their  jocund  sports  maintain. 


Ah,  could  we  thus  with  lithesome  folly  cheer 
The  cold  dull  round  of  this  attritious  life. 

Less  grim,  less  absolute,  it  might  apj^ar — 
Man  less  with  upas  attributes  seem  rife, 
And  to  exist  require  less  bitter  strife. 

But  no!   this  is  a  dismal  phce  of  tears, 

Where  to  each  heart  Destruction  holds  a  knife: 

He  who  with  mirth  his  cup  of  sorrow  cheers. 
Like  a  mad  clown  among  a  troop  of  ghosts  appears. 


Who  stranger  is  to  woe.''     Whose  breast  ne'er  felt 
The  arrowy  thought  of  that  terrific  hour 

When  flesh  shall  into  mould'ring  ashes  melt, 
And  all  that  lived,  at  Death's  corrosive  lower, 
Yield  all  its  beauty,  all  its  pomp,  and  power. 

Who  hath  not  trembled  at  the  very  thought, 
And  felt  the  sweetest  cup  of  pleasure  sour. 

That  all  he  loved,  lived  for,  and  wrought. 
Must  feed  the  livid  worm,  and  crumble  into  nought? 


28 


111  boots  it  what  our  state,  when  earthward  prone 
We  hear  the  clarion  callinp^  us  to  leave 

This  shallow  world,  and  enter  all  alone 

The  mansions  of  the  dead.     How  deep  we  grieve 
To  part,  for  on  this  little  scene  we  weave 

Those  fragile  woofs  our  wonder  and  delight — 
Alas!   so  often  shining  to  deceive. 

Poor  timid  things!     We  loathe  so  far  a  flight; 
Fearful  if  lost  the  way  we  plunge  in  endless  night. 


What  riseth  dimly  on  the  briny  verge 

With  rugged  peak  ascending  to  the  sky.-* 
'Tis  fair  Santelmo,  centred  on  the  surge, 

Aloof  from  all  the  isles,  that  clust'ring  lie 

Ikneath  A.scian's  azure  canopy. 
Here  like  some  goddess  of  the  deep,  she  stands; 

Whose  strength  alone  the  tempest  can  defy, 

Nor  Ocean  heed,  though  harsh  upon  her  sands 

He  leads  with  sullen  rein  his  rude,  impetuous  bands. 


As  to  our  gaze  the  island  plainer  grew, 

A  hideous  spectre  caught  each  startled  eye; 
By  whirlwinds  urged  across  the  deep,  it  blew 

Till  on  our  lx?am  it  foaming  thundered  by; 

Alarmed  we  saw  the  watery  spire  draw  nigh, 
And  steer  almost  athwart  the  traders'  course; 

While  round  the  billows  heave,  and  upward  fly, 
Till  one  huge  jet  revolves  with  lightning  force: 
Loud  howl  the  curling  winds;   seas  raging  bellow  hoarse. 


Our  gunner  comes:   the  starboard  guns  are  primed. 

Their  muzzles  on  the  watery  column  bear; 
Quick  as  the  vessel  lurched — by  order  timed — 

The  linstocks  on  the  nitrous  i)riming  flare; 

One  loud  concussion  rends  the  trembling  air. 
Re-echoing  ocean  murmurs  to  the  roar 

Deep  as  the  lion  thunders,  when  his  lair 
Invasive  feels  the  foe.     Down-crashing  pour 
The  broken  torrents  vast;   and  lo!   the  peril's  o'er! 


29 


The  transient  deluge  past;   our  course  again 

For  Santelnio's  uprising  shores  we  held; 
When,  as  the  glaring  day  began  to  wane, 

Oer  a  long  shelf  where  high  the  breakers  swell'd; 

Into  a  landlocked  cove  the  brig  impell'd; 
Here  laid  secure,  we  swing  at  anchor  bound 

Amid  a  scene  whose  weird  enchantment  spell'd 
Our  souls  as  with  a  talisman;   around 
Romantic  prospects  rose  with  ncmorous   beauties   crowned. 


Soon  as  the  crimson  beams  of  daylight  rose, 
Away  to  land  our  men  for  water  rowed; 

Moor  near  a  fount,  whose  cr)'stal  current  flows 

Low-bickering  down  a  ledge.     The  casks  they  load, 
And  strong- lashed,  in  appointed  order  stowed. 

This  done,  in  dalliance  for  awhile  on  shore 
They  roam  excursivcA    As  along  they  strode, 

With  wistful  eyes  they  scan  the  landscape  o'er, 
And  muse  on  scenes  whose   like  none  e'er  beheld    before. 


Scenes  bright  as  visions  of  that  beauteous  home, 
Islam's  great  Prophet  promiscth  the  blest; 

Led  by  sweet  houries,  ever  pleased,  they  roam 
Through  fairy  regions  of  enchanted  rest. 
Where  suns  are  clear;    fields  alway  vernal  drest; 

W'oods  thick  with  leaves;   and  flower)-  all  the  dales. 
Where  brooklets  wind;   and  o'er  the  lakelet's  breast 

The  sacred  bird  in  tuneful  joyance  sails, 
And  beats  with  flapping  wing  the  spicy-laden  gales. 


Here  in  this  isle  a  dreamy  beauty  reigned; 

Soft  overhead  the  fleecy  clouds  appeared; 
Harmonious  warblers  in  the  woods  maintained 

A  joyous  chorus  that  diffusive  cheered — 

Our  seamen  wondering  at  the  music  weird. 
Delicious  languor,  too,  her  elfin  woof 

Spread  o'er  the  lands.     Romance  each  spot   endear'd; 
Still  unimprest  by  man's  destructive  hoof, 
All-glorious  Nature  bloomed  from  human  wiles  aloof. 


30 


Here  the  wild  bee  pursued  its  droning  flight, 

Industrious  plunderer  of  the  honeyed  flowers; 
And  chiming  through  tlie  long  moon-shining  night 

Sad  campanero  tolled  the  waning  hours; 

Or,  sealed  amid  the  deep  umbnigcous  bowers, 
Her  dual  note  the  lonely  cuckoo  plays; 

Whilst — keen  prcsagcr  of  approaching  showers — 
The  restless  heron  flutters  through  the  maze. 
Or,  from  some  blasted  tree  th'  :vrial  tumult  bays. 


Eld  trees  arise:   grim  druids  of  the  wood, 
Long  since  beshorn  of  their  prime  loveliness, 

Solemn  they  frown  uj)on  the  solitude; 
Whilst  younger  monarchs  tenderly  caress 
Their  gay  comi)anions,  and  with  pomp  impress 

The  neighboring  scenery.     Ten  thousand  dyes 
Imprint  the  glebe;   and  in  each  green  recess 

Sun-colored  fruits  the  dazzled  eye  surprise, 
And  the  prospective  still  in  varied  beauty  vies. 


Prime  over  all  the  Artocarpus  reigns — 
Majestic  monarch  of  the  torrid  zone — 

From  whose  all-generous  and  prolific  veins, 
As  winds  among  his  topmost  branches  moan. 
The  goodly  bread-fruit  is  spontaneous  thrown. 

Tree  of  the  countless  isles!     Thou  beauteous  thing- 
Thou  life  dispenser;    what  could  e'er  atone 

The  loss  of  thee.**   whence  blessings  constant  spring; 
Nature's  auspicious  gift,  Ascian  muses  sing! 


Ascia's  dusky  race  thy  fruit  maintains; 

Thy  bark  a  shelter  offers  from  the  heat; 
From  thy  light  wood  the  swift  canoe  obtains; 

As  plates  thy  leaves  support  the  frugal  treat; 

And  from  thy  pores  glutinous  juices  sweet 
Distilled,  the  pangs  of  fiery  thirst  abate; 

Or  lime  exude  to  snare  th'  ortolans  feet; 
No  part  of  thee  is  waste.     Benignant  Fate, 
Thee  into  being  called  sharp  misery  to  rebate. 


31 


Whilst  gazing  on  the  varied  prospect  round, 
On  a  tall  hummock  the  bold  seamen  stood, 

And  saw  immured  in  shady  groves  profound, 
A  hamlet  just  obtruding  through  the  wood — 
Sole  sign  of  man  in  this  deep  solitude. 

Fired  at  the  sight;   all  caution  cast  aside; 
And  vowed  with  many  an  exclamation  rude, 

That  if  the  chief  should  not  averse  decide, 
To  reach  the  village  ere  descent  of  eventide. 


Permission  given,  at  once  they  haste  away. 

Led  by  the  mate,  and  well  supplied  with  arms; 
When,  just  as  shut  the  drooping  lid  of  day, 

Their  van  vociferous  the  watch  alarms; 

Men  sought  their  spears,  and  maids  conceal'd  their  charms. 
But  mauger  all;   they  marched  into  the  town — 

A  pretty  place  o'ergrown  by  waving  palms; 
When  soon  they  met^a  native  with  a  crown; 
He  was  a  king  they  found — else  they  had  knocked  him  down. 


Soon  as  he  saw  them,  his  sardonic  mien 
Vouchsafed  to  wrinkle  with  an  ugly  smile; 

He  turned  and  led  them  to  an  arbor  green, 
Where  he  was  wont  his  liesure  to  beguile, 
And  toy  with  maidens  loveliest  of  the  isle; 

Thence  he  produced  a  most  substantial  cheer; 
Flesh,  herbs  and  fruit,  and  fish  aglow  in  oil; 

And  bade  them  eat,  nor  aught  of  evil  fear; 
For  he  by  Nature  was  a  generous  cavalier. 

Withal  they  longed  for  an  inspiring  taste 
Of  cr)'stal  whisky  or  brown-colored  rum; 

Either  of  which  when  ardently  embraced, 
Will  act  the  part  of  a  funereal  drum. 
And  tap  a  man  head-first  to  regions  glum. 

They  had  no  grog.     To  ease  this  want  severe. 
Old  cocoa-toddy  served  their  wits  to  numb — 

And  so  'twixt  many  an  oath,  and  many  a  leer. 
They  swore  their  host  was  quite  a  royal  grenadier. 


32 


Nor  stopt  his  bounty  here.     It  farther  spread, 

And  joys  provided  of  a  fairer  kind; 
His  guests  into  a  spacious  hut  he  led, 

And  to  each  tar  a  buxom  girl  assigned, 

In  whom  a  Pasha  might  new  pleasure  find; 
And  when  like  doves  the  wanton  throngs  were  paired; 

He  bade  a  fluter  raise  the  sounding-wind, 
Whereat  each  maid  her  agile  figure  bared. 
And  wjth  our  fervid  men  in  mazy  dancing  shared. 


Bismillah!   'twould  astound  a  sultan's  eyes 
To  see  those  dark  girls  in  that  amorous  dance; 

As  each  coy  maid  her  toil  enslaving  plies, 
Her  lover's  native  ardor  to  enchance 
And  steep  his  soul  in  Passion's  molten  trance; 

Whilst  as  she  swept  in  graceful  circles  round. 
Desires'  hot  wishes  flashed  in  every  glance. 

And  firing  at  each  warm,  bewildering  bound, 
Longed  in  fruition's  dreams  to  find  those  wishes  crowned. 

Out  on  the  dance!   it  is  the  vilest  thing 

The  cloven-footed  genius  ever  brought 
Into  this  world;   virtue  to  loose,  and  fling 

Light-headed  souls,  by  rapid  motion  caught, 

Into  the  gulf — or  better,  into  naught. 
Out  on  the  dance!     "Fis  in  the  giddy  reel 

The  plastic  virgin  Love's  delights  is  taught; 
When  made  the  pressing  hand  betimes  to  feel, 
Her  bosom  throbs  with  thoughts  'twere  safer  to  conceal. 


Forbear!    These  natives  are  a  comely  race — 

True  sons  of  Anak,  as  their  stature  quite 
O'er-topt  our  tallest  lad — Alonzo  Brace, 

A  Portuguese,  above  six  feet  in  hight; 

And  all  in  strength  display 'd  enormous  might. 
Unclad  the  men;   the  younger  women,  though 

Less  careless,  hide  their  graces  from  the  sight 
By  flaxen  aprons,  yet  contrive  to  show- 
Enough  of  charms,  whose  like  few  pale-faced  maidens  know. 


33 


Both  sexes  use  tattoo;   dye  their  teeth  black; 

And  every  man  has  several  lusty  wives, 
Whom  he  as  serfs  compels  the  grain  to  stack, 

Hew  wood,  draw  water,  edge  his  flinty  knives, 

Rear  children,  cook,  and  first  the  honey'd  hives 
Bare-faced  attack.     Whilst  he  as  master  oft 

Loud-roaring  to  her  task  the  woman  drives; 
I'hus  by  hard  usage  she  becomes  quite  soft. 
And  humbled  never  bears  a  haughty  port  aloft. 


The  native  king  was  quite  an  ancient  man, 

With  power  despotic  vested  in  his  will; 
The  isle  was  his;   and  since  his  reign  began 

He  had  contrived  with  very  little  skill. 

One  half  of  his  unhappy  race  to  kill. 
But  he  was  king;   and  kings,  though  common  dust. 

Would  lower  be  unless  they  loved  to  spill 
Blood  by  the  hogshead.     However,  Fate  is  just, 
And  kingly  souls  from  Heaven  may  old  Saint  Peter  thrust. 


He  had  a  daughter  with  great  beauty  rife — 
No  lovelier  damsel  e'er  was  ushered  in, 
(To  lead  an  easy  sort  of  useless  life) 

In  this  round  world  of  wretchedness  and  sin — 
Of  doubtful  virtue  and  distempered  gin. 
Lithe  was  her  form  in  dusk}'  charms  array'd. 

And  fit  her  glance  the  coldest  heart  to  win. 
For  Love's  delicious  wiles  by  Nature  made, 
She  reigned  the  queen  of  hearts  o'er  all  this  sea-girt  glade. 


But  sealed  within  her  breast  there  was  a  pang 
That  told  of  feverish  wishes  unsubdued — 

Of  sleepless  thoughts,  whose  adder-venomed  fang 
Wounds  deepest  in  the  hour  of  solitude. 
Nor  fails  to  lance  in  the  convivial  mood. 

Soul-piercing  dreams  that  fated  mortals  speed 

To  graves  unripe.     With  such  life's  road  is  strewed; 

Our  steps  along  these  hopeless  ruins  lead — 
Ruins  by  sad  affection  ever  doomed  to  bleed. 


34 


O  Love!   what  is  thy  genius,  that  thou  must 

With  anguish  wring  the  too-confiding  heart? 
Pursue  with  terror  till  he  turn  to  dust 

The  hapless  wretch  destined  to  feel  the  dart; 

Vet.  yet  delay  the  soul  from  flesh  to  part! 
Thou  fatal  archer!     Tyrant  of  our  race, 

Ordained  to  smite  with  never-healing  smart, 
And  in  our  breast  a  beauteous  image  place, 
Wliich  if  in  y<^uiirs  ])rin»e  fixed  no  other  can  eftace. 


Supreme  thy  i)ower;  yet,  but  a  sacred  few 

Feel  its  eflect  through  long  and  ling'ring  years; 
Whose  souls  are  tempered  in  a  furnace,  true — 

Whose  iiearts  are  pure — whom  misery  bathes  in  tears. 

These,  these  thy  ruthless  brand  delighted  sears; 
Tiiese  thy  delight  to  fill  with  sharp  unrest — 

Unrest  increasing  as  the  sand  careers; 
Till,  last  dread  refuge  of  the  grief  opprest. 
The  gloomy  grave  extends  its  cold  sequestered  breast. 


In  vain  earth's  shallow  joys  to  him  atone 
Who  mourns  the  loss  of  a  congenial  love; 

He  in  relentless  pathos  stands  alone. 

Like  some  lorn  tree,  that  singled  from  the  grove- 
Smote  by  th'  electric  fury  from  above. 

Changed  by  the  shock,  becomes  a  ruined  spar. 
All  cheerful  beauties  from  its  nature  drove, 

Sad  droops  its  rifted  head,  and  every  scar 
Pernicious  speaks  its  fate  and  heralds  it  afar. 


Enough,  enough,  forbear  so  dull  a  theme, 
The  dark  chimera  of  disordered  brains; 
'Tis  sickly  kinds  that  of  affection  dream; 

Or  think  its  bands  com|X)sed  of  iron  chains. 
Love  is  but  Passion,  changing  as  the  vanes 
That  restless  wander  to  the  veering  winds; 

A  moment  in  one  heart  perchance  remains — 
Then  with  frail  bonds  another  victim  binds; 
Tis  like  true  Virtue  which  no  searcher  ever  finds. 


35 


It  chanced  there  was  among  the  crew,  a  youth 
Who  from  Tasmania  as  a  sea-boy  came; 

His  sire  had  been  a  ranger,  and  in  sooth, 
Upon  a  scaffold  tumbled  out  in  shame, 
Leaving  to  prison  writs  a  doubtful  fame. 

He  was  a  Maltese — Jack  Ispara  called — 

And  like  his  honored  sire  was  counted  game; 

At  least  his  spirit  never  could  be  thralled: 
He  beat  the  boatswain  thrice — and  once  the  skipper  mauled. 


Jack  had  a  lion  heart;  yet  he  was  famed 

For  his  success  in  acts  of  gallantr\'; 
Acts  so  profound,  Don  Juan  would  have  shamed 

Had  he  e'er  lived  to  hear  their  strategy, 

Or  to  behold  the  youth's  pomposity. 
But  let  these  pass;   to  j)rudes  they  might  appear 

As  spiced  with  something  of  coarse  ribaldr)' — 
And  we  are  moral  too;   Jack — it  was  queer — 
Would  charm  the  dullest  girl  by  one  good  sidelong  leer. 


May  the  good  Virgin  save  all  virtuous  maids 

From  such  dread  men   and  from  their   looks  oblique; 

But  most  from  their  embrace,  which  so  degrades 
All  that  is  lo\ely  in  the  sex,  so  meek — 
The  sex  by  vulgar  error  reckoned  weak. 

May  all  the  angels — if  indeed,  there's  any — 
Preserve  their  lower  sisters,  when  men  seek 

To  blast  their  characters,  of  which  there's  many. 
Nor  deem  a  moral  man  no  better  than  a  zanv. 


Jack  saw  the  gentle  maid:     "Aha!"  quoth  he, 
(As  on  her  charms  his  eye  admiring  shone), 
"This  buxom  maiden  is  a  prize  for  me; 

No  arms  but  mine  so  fair  a  form  shall  own — 
My  lips  her  cheek  impress  and  mine  alone," 
He  said:    then  sprang  his  amorous  arts  to  wield — 

Sighed  as  he  gazed  and  spoke  in  piteous  tone. 
When  soon  the  god  of  hearts  this  truth  reveal'd: 
That  woman  close-besieged  must  to  the  sieger  yield. 


36 


Love  knit  their  hearts:   he  stoopt  to  Beaiit)''s  charms; 

She  blooming  youth  in  modest  zeal  desir'd; 
Love's  magnet  lured  to  warm  congenial  arms, 

And  Hymen's  torch  voluptuous  wishes  fired — 

Such  the  keen  joys  affection  fond  inspir'd. 
Ispara,  in  the  sweet  enchantment  bound, 

With  his  beloved  into  the  isle  retired, 
And  wandering  where  no  trace  could  e'er  be  found. 
In  secret  hid.     Success  their  resolution  crowned. 


Our  commerce  ended:    to  the  seas  once  more 

We  give  our  lives  and  our  storm-beaten  bark; 
While  sinks  astern  Santelmo's  azure  shore, 

And  rolling  clouds  arise  in  squadrons  dark. 

Winds  still  are  mute;   but  lo!   afar,  wc  mark 
A  sable  cloud  upon  the  purple  sky 

Advancing  towr'd  the  vertic.     And  soon,  hark 
That  melancholy  sough — th'  presaging  sigh 
Of  howling  winds  that  rack  the  starless  canopy. 


Adieu  ye  scenes  of  sweet  arcadian  bliss, 

That  to  our  eyes  your  varied  beauties  spread; 

How  fair  the  contrast  to  a  scene  like  this 
Where  jarring  temf)ests  rouse  the  watery  bed 
And  beat  inclement  on  the  wanderer's  head. 

Hoarse-sounding  from  the  hyperborean  pole 
The  windy  gods  across  the  billows  tread; 

Jove's  thund'ring  bolts  along  the  concave  roll, 
And  the  terrific  scene  with  horror  fills  the  soul. 


And  fast  before  the  wild,  pursuing  waves, 

Like  a  winged  thing  the  shivering  vessel  flew; 

Whilst,  as  with  force  increased  the  tempest  raves, 
Green  fear  glowers  on  the  pale,  despairing  crew, 
Who  sick  at  heart  their  doleful  station  rue. 

But  Fate  at  length,  with  milder  aspect  frowned; 
Fixed  to  a  point  the  hoarse  tornado  blew; 

North- west- by- west  we  scoured  the  bleak  profound; 
Three  weary  weeks  elapse  and  terrors  still  confound. 


37 


Low  did  she  stoop  among  those  boiling  seas, 
Whilst  every  joint  rang  out  its  sad  refrain, 

As  if  with  voice  endowed,  its  miseries 

To  chant  unto  the  rude,  tumultuous  main, 

On  which  full  many  a  heart  had  toiled  in  vain, 

As  roared  the  billows  in  malignant  glee; 
And  many  a  tender  heart  had  mused  amain 

When  the  shrill  night-winds,  driving  o'er  the  lea 
Have  piped  around  the  home  of  him  who  plowed  the  sea, 


At  length  the  blust'ring  winds  began  to  lull — 
The  seas  to  sleep — the  clouds  to  break  away; 

And  the  awaking  sun,  emerging  full, 
Gave  cheering  promise  of  a  calmer  day, 
And  roused  our  spirits  with  his  smiling  ray. 

Again  the  long  imprisoned  sails  are  spread, 
Whilst  aiding  gales  in  strains  alluring  play; 

Nor  more  the  wind-god's  hellish  wrath  we  dread; 
Peace  gilds  the  shining  wave;   the  long,  long  storm  has  fled. 


"A  sail,  a  sail!"  the  watch  sonorous  cries. 

And  at  the  cry  all  hands  expectant  gaze; 
"A  sail,  a  sail,"  the  master's  voice  replies. 

As  through  his  glass  he  sweeps  the  distant  haze, 
And  with  attention  a  dim  speck  surveys; 
Soon  round  the  deck  the  sad  announcement  goes. 

And  every  face  emotion  dark  betrays; 
She  is  a  proa — fellcst  of  the  foes — 
Who  in  these  lonely  seas  commercial  barks  oppose. 


And  now  she  squares  the  rising  gale  before, 
Fresh  canvas  spreads  and  for  our  vessel  steers; 

Whilst  from  each  port  the  long  resounding  oar 
Aglow  with  foam  in  serried  file  appears, 
And  cannon  loom  above  in  frowning  tiers. 

As  the  swift  vulture  on  its  quarry  flies, 
So  to  her  prey  the  fierce  Sumatran  veers; 

Till  fancy  seems  to  hear  th'  exultant  cries 
That  crown  the  triumph  of  her  darkling  enterprise. 


88 


No  season  this  for  craven-like  delay, 

For  fast  the  corsair  draws  within  the  range 

Of  her  bow  guns.     At  once  to  bear  away 

The  orders*  given:   anew  our  course  we  change, 
And  north-west  scud  for  Fijiian  waters  strange. 

Three  hours  we  fly;    when  lo.  a  jet  of  smoke 

Springs  from  the  proa's  head,  and  poor  Will  Stange, 

Falls  bleeding  to  the  deck;   his  shoulder  broke 
By  a  huge  splint  rent  from  the  counter's  solid  oak. 


The  fearful  spectacle  our  vengeance  woke, 
And  swift  a-port  the  carronades  we  ran; 

Then  as  the  proa  cleared  her  smoky  cloak 
We  luffed,  and  sudden  thro'  her  teeming  van 
A  broadside  pour'd.     And  now  the  fight  began 

In  real  earnest.     Shots  incessant  stream; 
Small  arms  resound;   and  louder  o'er  the  span 

Great  cannon  roar;   anon  a  piercing  scream 
Foretold  some  wretch  had  closed  lifes'  miserable  dream. 


But  fate  is  everything.     A  plunging  shot 
From  out  the  proa's  forward  chaser  sped; 

It  struck  the  mainmast;   from  the  riven  spot 
A  splinter  issued;   one  sailor  dead, 
Another  wounded  on  the  deck  it  spread. 

These  to  the  sick-bay  we  at  once  convey 'd, 

Cleard   off  the  wreck,  the  mainmast's  tottering   head 

With  sturdy  tackle  in  position  stay'd, 
Then  to  the  brunt  of  war  like  bold  tarpaulins  laid. 


Unbent  the  contest  till  the  veil  of  night 

In  deepest  shade  the  grim  combatants  hid, 
Then  ceased  contention;   though  the  gory  fight 

Might  yet  begin  when  morning's  waking  lid, 

Diffusing  lustre,  should  the  hostile  bid 
To  arms.     But  as  auspicious  winds  prevailed 

And  darkness  favored,  we  resolved  to  rid 
Ourselves  of  the  Malay.     Away  we  sailed, 
And  many  leagues   had  crost  ere  Heaven's  beacons   paled. 


39 


As  sunk  in  light  Bootes  silvery  car, 

And  from  the  vertic  fled  the  Northern  Wain, 

We  gazed  across  the  heaving  deep  afar, 
But  saw  no  proa  ply  the  chase  amain 
All-furious  bent  the  battle  to  maintain; 

Clear  were  the  seas,  far  as  we  questioned,  clear; 
Pleased  at  the  sight  our  courage  we  regain; 

And  urged  tow'rd  Fijiian  Isles  three  days  career — 
When  lo!   what  mystic  coasts  upon  our  lee  appear! 


His  chart  the  master  scans,  but  scans  in  vain, 

Whilst  dark  suspicions  o'er  his  senses  creep; 
No  isle  here  marks  the  hydrographic  plane, 

Unsounded  billows  here  unbroken  sweep; 

Still  as  he  looked  upon  the  frowning  steep, 
In  full  relief  against  the  azure  thrown, 

With  quicker  force  his  throbbing  pulses  leap, 
And  added  lustre  in  his  vision  shone; 
He  first  had  found  this  land,  unto  the  world  unknown! 


He  slyly  laughed,  and  when  his  sextant  showed 
The  true  location  of  this  nameless  isle, 

He  almost  seemed  to  feel  Fame's  crushing  load 
Upon  his  shoulders  press,  in  such  fine  style 
That  he  ranked  far  above  the  common  file. 

For  he,  like  humans  all,  was  soft  on  fame, 
And  to  be  famous  would  as  lief  exile 

The  few  poor  virtues  which  adorn  a  name, 
Or  raise  man  o'er  the  bnite,  by  instinct  much  the  same. 


Oh  for  a  voice  like  some  gruft"  auctioneer, 
To  curse  the  mischiefs  that  proceed  from  fame; 

Which  like  another  Eve,  has  settled  here 
To  spread  awide  the  scathing  blast  of  shame. 
And  Satan's  larders  fill  with  human  game. 

Of  all  the  ills  in  life's  portentous  list, 

Fame  is  the  worst.     She  is  an  artful  dame, 

Who  pouts  her  lips  but  rarely  can  be  kiss'd, 
And  when  within  our  grasp  most  suddenly  is  miss'd. 


Of    THt 
Of 


40 


She  is  a  jilt — the  deuce  to  every  heart, 

A  queen  with  every  wicked  fancy  frauglu; 
Withal  admired,  and  lured  by  every  art; 

Since  few  desire  to  be  accounted  nought. 

Or  die  without  one  battle  being  fought; 
For  men  are  fond  of  rising — like  good  leaven — 

More  bent  on  leaching  than  on  being  taught; 

Still,  where  one  floats,  of  sinker's  there  are  seven; 

And  after  all  there's  doubt  if  this  one  gets  to  Heaven. 


And  man's  a  pompous  creature;   like  a  crane, 

Though  placed  on  earth  he  lifts  his  head  on  high, 

And  often  soars  above  his  low  domain, 
As  if  his  nature  was  to  upward  fly 
And  in  remoteness  dodge  the  sharpest  eye. 

Vain  fool!   however  far  he  chance  to  soar, 
His  clumsy  shape  the  dullest  sight  can  spy. 

And  though  gay  plumes  his  carcass  cover  o'er, 
Tis  but  a  man  beneath — a  paltr)-  man — no  more. 


"Fame  is  a  rose  upon  a  dead  man's  breast" — 
So  saith  the  proverb — but,  my  lad,  belay; 
This  tiresome  canting  now  should  surely  rest; 
Preaching  is  folly  when  it  fails  to  pay — 
So  quoth  the  canters  of  the  present  day; 
And  taking  their  advice,  our  moral  strain, 
Like  a  coiled  halser,  shall  in  storage  lay 
Until  the  spirit  moves  us,  when  again 
We  may  resume  our  theme  and  sermonize — in  vain. 


Ben  Nebo  stood  upon  the  deck,  as  Eve, 

Deep-blushing,  gleamed  across  the  purple  surge; 

And  pensive,  saw  the  ruddy  glimmer  leave 

The  western  skies,  and  glowering  o'er  the  verge 
Slow-paced  to  Night's  engulfing  void  emerge; 

He  heard  the  billow's  sob,  the  mews'  shrill  cry, 
The  fitful  zephyrs  melancholy  dirge, 

Till  Thought  awaking,  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh 
Joined  the  sad  chorus  with  her  plaintive  lullaby. 


41 


What  Cometh  from  the  gloomy  realms  of  death, 
With  graceful  step  and  form  of  fairest  mold? 

Whilst  soft  as  summer  winds  expiring  breath — 
As  bells  that  tinkle  from  some  distant  fold, 
Or  music  from  some  seraph  harpist  roU'd, 

Her  voice  melodious  steals.     Ben  Nebo  wakes, 
And  shudders  at  the  beauteous  phantom  cold. 

Whose  glance  the  frozen  seal  of  memor}-  breaks. 
And  bids  him  breathe  anew,  while  Hope  expectant  quakes. 


"Ye  moaning  billows  chant  of  Nora,  dead — 
Nora  who  perished  in  the  bloom  of  youth! 
Ye  sea-winds  wail  so  fair  a  spirit  fled! 
Ye  mermaids  sing  the  desolating  truth! 
And  you  ye  dolphins  hoarsely  groan  in  ruth 
Of  her  whose  exit  all  my  being  wrings — 

Discourse  of  Nora!     Left  forlorn,  in  sooth 
No  joy  to  me  a  gleam  of  pleasure  brings, 
But  melting  dirges  Love  in  chime  funereal  rings. 


"Her  beauteous  form  is  now  insensate  dust; 
Long  years  of  anguish  prove  her  exit  true; 
And  I  have  felt  upon  my  heart  the  rust, 

The  blight,  the  canker,  of  a  grief  which  few 
Have  felt  tho'  lives  of  sorrow  passing  through. 
And  since  the  hour  that  ga\e  her  to  the  tomb. 

This  weary  pilgrimage  I've  learned  to  rue; 
Yet  Fate  forbids  an  issuance  from  the  gloom, 
Till  th'  appointed  blow  completes  my  ling'ring  doom. 


"Fair  Nora  sleeps!   her  sweet  voice  now  is  mute, 
No  more  its  cadence  can  my  senses  please; 
Her  palsied  hand  no  more  awakes  the  lute, 
No  more  her  lips  in  ringing  symphonies 
Of  Love — sad  Love — resound  the  elegies. 
Her  woodland  pets  their  darling  mistress  mourn. 

But  Time  their  grief  oblivious  shall  appease, 
Whilst  I,  less  favored,  wailing  still  forlorn, 
Of  hapless  Nora  chant,  untimely  from  me  torn. 


42 


"For  her  no  more  the  wreathy  crown  I  tNvine 
As  when  we  roamed  in  days  to  memory  dear; 
For  her  no  more  enweave  the  fragrant  vine, 
Or  lure  the  minnow  from  the  streamlet  clear. 
Still,  still  of  her  I  sing  in  strain  austere, 
As  fits  the  dismal  tenor  of  my  soul; 

And  oft  methinks  her  spirit  hovers  near; 
Her  elfin  dirges  with  my  moanings  roll; 
O  beauteous  shade  awake  and  with  my  grief  condole! 


"I  then  might  know  what  I  shall  never  know, 

A  gleam  of  bliss  these  shadows  to  dispel. 

And  lifting  up  the  weight  of  crushing  woe, 

Make  life  appear  less  a  terrestrial  hell. 

Where  Pleasures  rarely  flit — where  Sorrows  dwell; 

I  then  might  be  what  I  was  in  time  past — 

A  firm  believer  in  the  flimsy  spell, 
That  man  was  in  a  sacred  image  cast — 
Which  like  all  things  of  earth,  exf>erience  proves 'avast"! 


The  loud-voiced  boatswain  cries,  as  crawling  aft. 
Some  order  to  a  forward  tar  he  gave, 

Who  with  a  gang  was  taking  in  the  gaft. 

Soon  as  his  tones  rang  o'er  the  sounding  wave, 
Ben  Nebo's  plaints  found  a  remorseless  grave; 

As  up  he  sprang,  shook  ofl['  his  dreams,  and  stood 
Like  one  resolved  such  evil  wraiths  to  brave, 

Or  crush  at  once  the  ghastly-natured  brood. 
That  with  relentless  scowl  accurst  his  solitude. 


Shrill  blew  the  winds  and  fast  our  keel  impell'd 

Into  a  placid  and  majestic  bay; 
Green  woods  upon  the  heights  adjacent  swell'd, 

Where  cawing  birds  in  various  plumage  gay 

Reshot  the  lustre  of  th'  meridian  ray. 
Far  as  the  eye  could  range,  new  prospects  rose; 

Hills  roll  on  hills  and  mountains  Heav'n  survey; 
Soft  on  the  strand  the  deep  meand'ring  flows, 
And  Nature's  added  charms  a  perfect  scene  compose. 


43 


And  here  no  sign  of  human  Hfe  was  seen; 

No  rural  hamlet  peeped  between  the  wood, 
No  lonely  hut  appear'd  upon  the  green, 

No  vocal  murmurs  from  the  savage  brood. 

Broke  the  dead  silence  of  the  solitude. 
Far  as  the  vision  swept — 'twas  barren  all 

A  place  where  Nature  reign'd  unrivall'd  rude. 
Where  Beauty  made  her  gorgeous  capital, 
And  the  curs'd  foot  of  man  was  never  heard  to  fall. 


The  sea,  the  sea!   once  more  we  plow  the  sea, 
Loud  pipe  the  winds  that  curl  the  onward  wave; 

The  sea,  the  sea!   its  billows  fierce  and  free 
Are  terrors  to  the  dull  lu.xurious  slave, 
Whose  heart  revolts  when  roaring  breezes  rave. 

The  sea,  the  sea!    we  love  its  rushing  foam — 
And  whistling  gales  and  flowing  canvas  crave; 

Let  timid  landsmen  vaunt  their  anchor'd  home — 
Be  ours  the  better  fate — the  boundless  seas  to  roam. 


Such  the  glad  thoughts  that  every  bosom  held 
As  o'er  the  yesty  surge  we  gaily  sail'd; 

Yet  oft  Ben  Ncbo's  feverish  soul  rebell'd — 
Oft  his  long  exile  from  his  land  he  wail'd — 
Oft  in  deep  grief  relentless  Fate  assail'd. 

And  thus  one  night,  as  thrO'  the  etherial  blue, 
The  glistering  signs  his  awe-struck  sight  regal'd, 

With  restless  step  he  paced  the  watches  through, 
And  pensive  dreamed  as  they  on  noiseless  pinions  flew. 


And  thus  he  mused:     "Twas  in  the  waning  year 
When  sereing  leaves  presaged  their  coming  doom; 

When  wintry  blasts  deep-sounding  blew  severe 
And  crushed  the  flow'ret  in  its  tardy  bloom, 
That  much-lov'd  Nora  sank  into  the  tomb. 

I  still  can  see  that  pale,  angelic  brow — 
That  lovely  face  a  paler  hue  assume; 

Death's  rugged  coulter  those  sweet  features  plow — 
That  dark  eye  dim — all — all  appear  before  me  now. 


44 


"And  thou  art  dead!   say,  shall  I  e'er  again 
Behold  thee  as  thou  wert  in  hours  before 
The  icy  hand  of  Death  had  on  thee  lain? 

I  know  not.     Who  can  pierce  the  jealous  door 
That  'gainst  us  shuts  the  Future's  mystic  store? 
I  know  not — yet  illusive  wish  would  gild 
The  vision,  and  upon  my  senses  pour 
A  train  of  thought  with  this  dear  fancy  fill'd; 
But  grisled  doubt  succeeds  and  frozen  hope  lies  still'd. 


"And  I  have  loved!"     Aloud  the  steersman  here 
Broke  in  upon  the  muser's  reverie: — 
Quoth  he:     "What  light  is  that  so  red,  yet  clear, 
Whose  lustre  radiates  the  western  sea, 
And  tints  the  stooping  vapors  luridly?" 
Ben  Nebo  gazed  across  the  sullen  gloom 

To  where  a  flickering  glare  ujKjn  the  lee 
Bespoke  some  ship  a-fire.     A  hollow  boom 
Remurmuring  o'er  the  deep,  confirmed   the  fancied  doom. 


"A  ship  on  fire!"  the  up-roused  seamen  cry, 
As  curious  to  the  leeward  rail  they  run; 
Anon  to  indicate  assistance  nigh — 

So  wills  the  chief — discharge  a  signal  gun; 
And  scarce  the  simple  task  is  fully  done, 
Ere  from  the  light  there  comes  another  roar; 

A  minute  gun — we  fire  a  second  one 
In  hoarse  reply.     But  as  we  heard  no  more, 
Braced  on  the  wind  and  tow'rd  the  hapless  vessel  bore. 


It  was  a  grand — a  truly  solemn  sight — 
The  burning  of  that  ship  upon  the  main; 

Afar  there  shone  a  glare  of  ruddy  light, 
As  if  Avernus  bursting  through  its  chain 
Had  spill'd  its  horrors  on  the  watery  plain; 

But  as  we  gazed  the  rueful  scene  upon, 
A  train  of  meteors  lit  the  skies  amain; 

Flames,  sparks,  and  smoke,  commingled  hurtling  on, 
Shook  the  dank  void  and  glared  a  new  Phelegethon. 


45 


And  then  a  sound  like  the  last  trumpet,  loud, 
Hoarse  and  terrific,  roared  along  the  waste; 

And  high  above  a  black  revolving  cloud 
Through  the  abyss  its  nitrous  volume  trac'd 
Like  some  gigantic  pall  in  ether  placed, 

Then  as  the  fiery  ruins  downward  fell, 
Diffusive,  in  effulgent  armor  cased; 

The  roar  disparting  died  across  the  swell. 
And  silence  over  all  resumed  her  torpid  spell. 


'Twas  done!   the  wreck  in  countless  atoms  torn, 

Evanished  from  our  deeply-wondering  gaze; 
So  the  ill-fated  wretch  by  woes  o'er  borne, 
Ends  at  a  stroke  his  sorrow-laden  days, 
And  in  one  last  o'crwhelming  ruin  lays. 
Such  is  the  stern,  unswerving  law  of  Fate — 

The  smallest  principle  that  law  obeys; 
Man  least  of  all  that  edict  can  rebate, 
It  guides  the  very  will  that  seeks  oblivion's  state. 


Oblivion!   what  a  mystic  word  is  thine! 

Thou  opiate  of  all  sublunary  things; 
Thy  wraith  in  Death's  twin-sister  we  divine 

Congenial  balm  of  spirit-wounding  stings. 

Whose  poppy  draught  narcotic  languor  brings. 
Grateful  we  sip;   but  ah!   we  wake  again, 

And  shackless  Thought  like  a  hyena  springs 
Intent  to  rend.     He  clanks  his  riven  chain; 
Sharp-cutting,  wounds  our  peace  and  riots  in  our  pain. 


Let  such  as  in  Voltarian  dreams  delight, 
Draw  solace  from  their  cold  philosophy; 

Believe  that  Death  is  but  enduring  night, 

That  soul  dissolves  when  sense  hath  ceas'd  to  be- 
That  life  is  but  magnetic  energ)'. 

Let  such  believe — believe  thus  if  they  can; 
He  must  renounce  such  callow  sophistry 

Who  taught  the  inmost  shades  of  thought  to  scan. 
Hath  felt  that  subtle  fire  which  shone  ere  earth  began. 


46 


Can  genius  die?    Go  ask  the  glorious  shades 

Of  the  Immortals,  who  on  Nature's  page 
Graved  in  a  character  that  never  fades 

Their  mighty  glories  to  remotest  age. 

Can  Manfred  die — or  th'  Avonian  sage 
In  stony  crypt  forever  sleep  unknown? 

How  vain  to  ask.     'Gainst  these  the  cycles  wage 
Unequal  war.     Like  gods  they  stand  alone — 
Like  gods  they  make  a  sure  eternity  their  own. 


What  matter  if  the  outer  husk  decay, 

If  the  inherent  germ  existeth  still; 
Or,  if  the  spirit  of  the  germ  shall  stay 

Forever  quickened  and  forever  thrill 

Innumerous  spirits  to  its  sovereign  will. 
Such  the  grand  fate  of  earth's  illustrious  men, 

Whose  god-like  souls  distill'd  such  thoughts  as  fill 
The  eternal  years,  and  with  a  molten  pen 
Imprest  congenial  minds  until  they  glowed  again. 


What  mote  appeareth  on  the  distant  tide 
As  Dawn  emerges  from  her  rosy  bed? 
What  mote  that  draws  the  lookout's  glance  aside, 
As  perched  upon  the  foremast's  dizzy  head, 
He  quests  to  ken  what  ocean  may  bestead? 
"A  boat!   a  boat'/'  he  hails  the  watch  on  deck; 
Soon  thro'  the  ship  the  news  is  trumpeted. 
And  the  long  glass  is  levell'd  on  the  speck: 
It  is,  it  is  a  boat — a  relic  of  the  wreck! 


Long  was  the  tug  across  th'  opposing  seas, 
And  slow  that  boat  u|X)n  the  vessel  drew; 

At  length  an  end  to  all  uncertainties 

Appear'd  as  Solus  wheeled  the  vertic  through, 
When  to  our  deck  we  hauled  the  wearied  crew; 

And  when  refreshing  cheer  their  wants  supplied, 
They  told  their  story — one  that  all  might  rue — 

How  took  the  ship  a-fire — and  how  they  tried 
To  still  the  angry  flames,  whose  rage  their  power  defied. 


47 


She  was  a  Lusian  ship  from  Lima,  bound 
For  Lisbon,  with  a  load  of  silver  ore; 

When  three  days  out  a  fierce  tornado  frown'd, 
And  forced  to  scud  at  its  wild  mercy,  bore 
South-west  by-south  for  Pitcairn's  lonely  shore. 

Amid  the  tempest — in  alarm  they  hear 

The  ship's  on  fire!     At  once  the  hold  explore, 

Where  fangs  of  flame  in  hideous  wrath  appear — 
And  aftward  trend,  seen  first  within  the  cable  tier. 


In  vain  they  toiled  to  quench  the  raging  fires. 

That  swept  devouring  through  the  crumbling  shell; 
The  flames  increase;   soon  wearied  strength  expires, 

And  Fate  on  every  billow  seems  to  swell. 

Then  mad  for  life  unto  the  guns  they  fell, 
And  rolled  afar  their  hoarse  funereal  notes, 

Such  as  in  minute  guns  alone  may  dwell; 
Nor  long  these  spoke.     Replied  our  brazen  throats; 
Told  of  assistance  near — and  urged  to  launch  their  boats. 


But  as  the  billows  ran  extremely  high, 

One  boat  was  in  the  act  of  launching  staved, 

And  eighteen  souls  with  one  united  cry 

Sank  in  the  flood;   but  three  its  fury  braved. 
And  nearly  drown'd  were  by  the  pinnace  saved. 

Just  then  her  people  heard  our  cannon  sound. 
And  stood  away  for  succor;    but  so  raved 

The  waters,  that  high  noon  was  blazing  round, 
Ere  on  the  trader's  deck,  a  resting  place  they  found. 


And  one  there  was  among  that  fated  train. 

Whom  Memor}'  oft  in  hue  primeval  shows, 
When  dreaming  o'er  those  faded  scenes,  again 

Some  picture  in  vivific  beauty  glows; 

Celestial   thou  destined  to  many  woes, 
Torn  from  thy  love — an  exile  on  the  deep; 

Till  kindly  Fate  resolved  thy  toils  to  close; 
And  where  Papuan  seas  cerulean  creep, 
On  couch  of  coral  laid  thy  beauteous  shell  may  sleep. 


48 


Yet  why  recall  a  melancholy  theme 

Long  since  in  dumb  negation  cast  away? 
'Tis  futile  o'er  departed  scenes  to  dream, 

Or  the  sad  past  in  pensive  grief  survey. 

The  present  is  not  one  unclouded  day — 
But  actual  sorrows  claim  our  constant  care, 

And  various  terrors  line  our  devious  way; 
Ideal  anguish  fades — dissolves  to  air, 
Beside  the  darker  shapes  that  haunt  us  everywhere. 

Most  sullen  of  the  jxmgs  that  sully  life — 
Grief  gloomy  hydra  lurks  in  every  heart; 

Ceaseless  until  the  soul-dissevering  knife 

Gives  its  last  keen — its  last  destructive  smart — 
And  bids  the  spirit  from  its  temple  start. 

Man  here  was  made  to  mourn — 'tis  Fate's  decree — 
And  he  who  .suffers  most  can  best  depart, 

Can  best  resign  these  scenes  of  miser)-, 
Can  best  take  the  dread  leap  into  eternity. 

Yet  life's  a  farce,  though  haply  some  may  cry: 

Life  is  no  farce — it  is  a  tragedy. 
Where  each  wan  actor  as  he  passeth  by 
Howls  out  a  lengthen'd  note  of  misery, 
And  shivering  dreads  his  frail  mortality. 
A  farce  hath  merriment — in  life  there's  none; 

'Tis  one  long  woe — devoid  of  pleasantry — 
From  man's  first  wail  until  his  task  be  done 
'Tis  one  continual  strife;   best  closed  when  first  begun. 


Still,  life's  a  farce.     Allow  that  there  is  ill 
In  many  things  that  to  this  state  befall; 

Yet  if  gauged  at  their  real  worth,  we  will 
Discover  that  the  hugest  of  them  all 
Into  the  merest  dwarfs  of  trouble  fall. 

Deaths,  disappointments,  pangs  and  penalties, 
Are  ills  indeed — but  ills  so  very  small 

That  it  is  strange  they  should  disturb  the  ease 
Of  reasoning  beings  versed  in  stem  philosophies. 


4d 


To  thoughtful  men  existence  is  a  farce— 

A  play  composed  of  hollow  vagaries 
In  which  the  players  all  one  censor  pass, 

And  fly  like  chaff  before  the  wintry  breeze 

Into  Eternity's  unfathomed  seas. 
All  is  unreal,  heartless,  and  unsound — 

Virtue  and  man  unyielding  enemies; 
The  greatest  ass  is  oft  with  honors  crown'd, 
And  plaudits  greet  the  knave  whose  limbs  no  fetters  bound. 


Canto     III 


The  toils  of  seamen,  rulers  of  the  waves, 
Twice  and  again  we  celebrate  in  song; 

Ye  manly  hearts!   who,  when  hoarse  Neptune  raves 
And  Boreas  howls,  excursive  scud  along, 
Proud  of  the  blast — as  merciful  as  strong! 

Sons  of  the  surge!  where'er  the  whirli)ools  hiss — 
In  storm-defying  ships — a  fearless  throng 

On  danger's  edge  you  ride!     What  courage  this? 
What  voice  can  sing  your  deeds,  ye  rovers  of  th'  abyss? 


But  lo!   emergent  from  the  gleaming  deep — 
Serenely  fair,  in  hues  prismatic  drest — 

Tahitian  shores  along  the  starboard  creep. 
Long-wished  for  haven  of  auspicious  rest — 
A  glistening  gem  on  ocean's  azure  breast 

Art  thou,  sweet  isle.     Hope  skims  the  rolling  tide 
With  joyful  wing  to  seek  thy  woody  nest, 

And  taste  those  joys  already  dim  descried — 
Utopian  joys,  where  every  sense  is  gratified. 


50 


But  soon,  alas!  these  dreams  illusive  flee, 

And  terror  draj^es  th'  extended  prospect  round; 
For  now  alarming  signs  that  storms  decree 

Our  anxious  eyes  with  woeful  glare  astound; 

Three  mighty  zones  the  sickly  moon  surround, 
O'er  the  North  Star  a  blackening  haze  appears. 

While  oft  across  the  heaven's  dark  profound, 
A  lurid  spark  in  rapid  fligiit  careers; 
Anon  indignant  Jove  hurls  his  electric  spears. 


Swift,  too,  the  silver  in  the  glassy  spire 

Shrinks  with  the  pressure  of  th'  x-rial  weight; 

Mysterious  agent!   fraught  with  seer-like  fire 
Ether's  incessant  change  to  ante-date, 
And  half  the  seaman's  doubtful  dread  abate. 

Still  lower  shrunk  the  boding  mercury, 
Breaking  the  si)cll  of  leisure  enervate; 

All  hands  are  rous'd — all  now  alert  must  be, 
For  hark,  the  blust'ring  winds  now  curl  the  jarring  sea! 

North-east-by-east  the  blasts  converging  blew, 
And  fast  the  brig  before  their  fury  sped; 

Till  dark  above  the  murky  verge,  anew 
A  mighty  cliff  uplifts  its  beetling  head, 
And  o'er  the  crew  presaging  terrors  shed; 

For  futile  now  to  clear  the  threat'ning  edge, 
By  naked  masts  whence  every  sail  has  lied; 

Yet  none  despair;    we  may  not  round  the  ledge. 
But  on  the  beach  escape  the  sea's  engulfing  dredge. 


In  this  distress,  while  horror  froze  our  blood, 

Instant  elapsed  all  thought  of  danger  past; 
For  to  each  eye,  above  the  angr)'  flood. 

Of  every  peril  we  beheld  the  last. 

Already  Fancy  sees  us  shipwreck'd,  cast 
Tom,  dumb,  and  bleeding  from  the  raging  waves; 

Or  seaward  urged,  in  hopeless  fear  aghast 
Sank  in  the  stifling  surge  to  nameless  graves, 
Where  the  voracious  newt  his  hideous  banquet  craves. 


51 


Stars  of  the  storm!  twin  brothers  placed  on  high, 
Who  erst  were  saviors  of  storm-beaten  crews, 

Say,  now,  where  is  thy  aid?  Loud,  loud  we  cry. 
Bright  pair!  thy  sea-comf)Osing  bands  to  loose, 
Nor  more  resistless  winds  awide  dift'use. 

In  vain,  in  vain — as  merciless  and  bleak 
As  the  hail-volley  cold — ye  glint  obtuse. 

Whilst  coastward  drives  the  wreck;   soon  its  huge  beak 
Grates  on  the  snapping  rock,  and  wild  the  drowning  shriek. 

The  waves  where'er  they  list,  the  ruins  urge 
Fierce-crashing  as  they  smite  the  flinty  coast; 

Amid  them,  drove  before  the  howling  surge, 
Ben  Ncbo  shoreward  hastes.     Of  all  the  host 
He  and  the  mate  but  scaped  th'  infernal  ghost, 

And  shivering  issued  from  the  yawning  seas; 

The  rest  were  lost;    they  and  their  floating  boast 

Found  a  release  from  all  calamities, 
And  as  a  holocaust  did  Neptune's  wrath  appease. 

Prone  on  the  beach  the  dumb  survivors  lay, 
Left  as  they  fell  by  the  retreating  wave. 

Till  life  relit  its  frail  and  fluttering  ray 

just  glimmering  on  the  margin  of  the  grave, 
And  to  their  shells  again  the  spirit  gave. 

Then  Nebo  rose;    then  next  the  hardy  mate 
Crept  from  the  sea;   and  in  a  winding  cave 

That  scoop'd  the  toppling  cliff",  they  weary  sate. 
And  sullenly  bewailed  their  sorrow-darken'd  state. 

And  there  throughout  the  lingering  night,  they  held 

Their  fearful  vigils  in  that  dismal  cell; 
Whilst  ceaselessly  without,  the  breakers  swell'd, 

And  in  sonorous  murmurs  seemed  to  knell 

A  funeral  chant  above  the  dead,  who  fell 
Untimely  coffined  in  the  bleak  abyss; 

Anon  attentive  Fancy  in  each  swell 
Caught  whispers  sad — the  requiems  of  bliss — 
Foretelling  coming  ills  dark  as  the  shade  of  Dis. 


Of 


) 


52 


But  Morn's  effulgent  light  their  gloom  dispels, 
And  wins  them  from  their  desolate  abode; 

Away  they  haste — explore  tiie  bosky  dells, 
And  tread  the  glebes  with  artocarpus  strowed, 
Or  wind  the  sloj>es  where  brawling   streamlets  flowed. 

All  pleasure  yield;    prolific  Nature  here 

Uncquall'd  gifts  dispensed,  and  radiant  showed 

Her  loveliest  phases  through  the  changeless  year; 
Adoring  bent  our  men,  and  soothed  their  grief  austere. 


Fatigued  at  length,  within  a  cool  retreat 
They  shelter  seek  from  the  meridian  blaze; 

A  mango-wood  re|)els  the  flaming  heat, 

And  to  each  breath  in  rustling  tremor  plays. 
Whilst  beauteous  pros|)ecls  ojkju  to  their  gaze. 

Here  vernal  glades  in  serried  vistas  lie; 
There  jxilm-trees  nod;   here  tamarinds  fleck  the  maze; 

There  monkeys  mewl;    here  gaudy  parrots  cry; 
There  solemn  woods  api>al;   here  meadows  charm  the  eye. 


While  thus  our  heroes  lay  upon  the  ground, 

Musing  on  what  their  wand'ring  .sight  could  find, 

They  marked  a  cliain  of  hills  the  vision  bound, 
And  rise  against  the  western  sky,  defined 
With  striking  clearness.     Thence  their  gaze  assigned, 

When  lo!   reared  on  an  isolated  cone 
A  warlike  ruin  stands,  and  to  each  mind 

Recalls  those  strongholds  which  by  age  o'erthrown. 
Still  on  Europa's  lands  like  broken  gems  are  strown. 


And  much  they  pondered  on  that  ruin  eld. 

And  marveled  by  whose  hands  its  walls  were  made; 

Yet  as  they  looked,  Ben  Nebo  dazed,  beheld 
The  mate's  stern  features  wear  a  darker  shade. 
And  ner\'ous  throes  his  stalwart  form  invade. 

But  these  soon  pass'd;   the  ruling  wish  prevailed; 
Both  men  no  longer  on  the  green-sward  laid, 

But  rose;   and  by  no  vagueful  terrors  quailed, 
They  gained  the  hillock's  brow  and  thence  the  fortress  scaled. 


53 


They  knocked:   unanswered  were  their  sounding  blows 
Save  by  the  echoes  from  the  neighboring!^  hights, 

Or  shriller  cries  of  parrots,  that  uprose 

From  a  thick  copse.     Again  our  hardy  wights 
Their  summons  beat;    no  sound;    but  wilder  flights 

Of  the  twice-startled  birds.     They  knock  no  more; 
Ben  Nebo's  eye  upon  a  pass  alights; 

An  olive's  stem  from  its  foundation  tore, 
Serves  at  a  stroke  to  burst  the  age-decaying  door. 

It  fell:   they  stood  within  a  spacious  hall, 

With  arms  of  every  structure  girt  around; 
Quaint  armor  rusted  on  the  crumbling  wall, 

Or  clasped  in  moss  decayed  ui)on  the  ground; 

All  they  beheld  in  ruin  lay  imbound. 
Here  the  last  relics  of  a  daring  crew 

In  this  lone  cell  a  sepulchcr  had  found, 
Whilst  those  who  erst  their  hardy  usage  knew, 
Beneath  the  gelid  wave  might  ocean's  floor  bestrew. 


Now  twilight  on  the  varied  landscape  fell, 

And  glimmer'd  through  the  oriel  of  the  tower. 

Rousing  the  owlet  from  his  mortised  cell. 

And  the  dim  bat  from  slce[)'s  occlusive  power, 
On  prey  intent  to  course  the  nightly  hour. 

And  then  Ben  Nebo  marked  a  darker  change 

Come  o'er  the  mate:    his  brows  despondent  lower. 

And  aspen-like  he  shook;    convulsion  strange 
In  one  who  lustily  bestrode  th'  uneven  range. 


Ben  Nebo  gazed  upon  the  man  askance, 

And  pondered  on  the  grief  his  face  betrayed; 
Then  gently  asked  its  cause — a  frenzied  glance 
Shot  from  the  mate's  dark  eye;    he  seem'd  afraid. 
But  curbed  his  fear  and  then  to  speak  essayed: 
"Last  eve,"  quoth  he,  "as  wandering  by  the  shore 
I  pensive  walked,  there  rose  a  hideous  shade 
From  out  the  deep;   and  like  a  mist  before 
My  awe-struck  vision  pass'd;   then  lost  'twas  seen  no  more. 


54 


"Aghast  I  stood,     liut  oft  in  years  agone 

Had  I  unblanched  belield  tliis  goblin  rise; 
But  now  its  grisled  terrors  smile  upon 
My  spirit  with  a  frenzy,  that  defies 
Mere  human  strength.     E'en  now  his  awful  size 
Hefore  me  looms.     Avaunt!     Hut  this  despite, 

Let  me  reliearse  a  tale  that  sleepless  lies 
In  memory's  urn.     With  gory  ills  bedight, 
Long  hath  it  groaned  within  Seclusion's  sliadowy  night. 


"This  tower  was  once  a  famous  pirate-haunt; 
From  here  Ulas  Matsi  issued  for  the  main, 
With  his  prize-loving  lads,  his  flag  to  vaunt, 
To  chase,  to  pillage,  and  by  arms  obtain 
From  booly-laden  ships  the  shining  gain. 
For  years  the  tyrant  of  the  Hood  confest, 

No  hostile  cruisers  could  his  course  restrain; 
Fearless  he  roved  where'er  he  cared  to  quest — 
A  gallant  chief  was  he — pride  of  each  corsair  breast. 


"Those  were  brave  days:   among  his  lusty  crew 
I  then  a  youth  was  a  fore-top-man  found; 
And  divers  brisk  affairs  passed  boldly  through 
Had  made  my  name  above  the  rest  renown'd, 
Whilst  added  wealth  my  rising  prospects  crown'd. 
But  yet  no  dreams  of  mere  ]>rcferment  rose 

With  sordid  ])ang  my  early  bloom  to  wound; 
I  fought  from  instinct — loved  hardhanded  blows — 
And  felt  upon  the  wave  the  equal  of  all  foes. 


"But  Fate  is  stern:   once  off  Gilolo's  shore, 
In  a  smooth  sea  and  with  a  sinking  wind, 
A  Briush  cruiser  down  upon  us  bore, 

And  her  broadside  upon  our  quarter  lined. 
Our  men  to  their  appointed  posts  assigned 
Stood  to  their  arms,  all  resolute,  prepared 

To  rake  the  Briton,  till  her  lads  should  find 
That  rogues  could  do  what  rogues  had  ever  dared, 
And  when  their  blood  was  up  for  man  nor  devil  cared. 


55 


"The  battle  opened;   and  a  cannon  shot 

Dread-whistHng  bold  Bias  Matsi  overthrew; 
And  prone  he  gasped  upon  the  fatal  spot 
Where  he  had  often  taught  the  foe  to  rue 
They  e'er  assailed  him  and  liis  daring  crew; 
But  ah!    his  loss  we  vainly  could  repair; 

In  nautic  skill — in  gunnery — but  few 
His  equals  were;    in  danger  first  to  dare; 
He  well  could  guide  the  bark  and  guard  the  secret  lair. 


"He  fell;   two  rivals  for  his  post  arose: 

Dave  Vangs,  a  son  of  nide  Northumbria's  shore, 
Whose  cutlass  foremost  gleam 'd  in  batde's  close, 
Unwilling  sheathed  till  hope  of  blood  was  o'er; 
Next  to  the  chief  a  second  rank  he  bore; 
Yet  as  command  the  general  voice  conferr'd, 

So  none  by  right  of  station  ever  wore 
The  chieftain's  plume.     To  Vangs  the  most   dcmurr'd- 
A  flinty  hearted  man  who  mercy  deemed  absurd. 


"His  rival  was  myself.     I  simply  placed 

My  cause  in  deeds  and  not  in  vainful  boasts; 
I,  too,  as  oft  the  jaws  of  danger  faced, 

And  burthened  Stygia  with  untimely  ghosts, 
When  foemen  Irespass'd  on  our  guarded  coasts. 
Our  claims  acknowledged,  lots  by  all  were  drawn, 
And  soon  the  issue  rcach'd  th'  assembled  hosts; 
Vangs,  who  ambition  lured,  had  learned  to  fawn. 
And  gained  by  specious  arts  the  men  he  held  in  scorn. 


"He  won;   but  still  the  action  was  opposed, 
And  discontent  prevailed  among  the  crew, 
While  those  who  hated  him,  together  closed. 
And  swore  that  ere  the  waning  moon  was  new 
He  should  his  transitory  honor  rue. 
I  counselled  j)eace,  and  sought  by  ever)'  wile 

To  quench  the  murmurs  that  portentous  grew; 
But  all  in  vain,  for  as  we  made  the  isle 
We  rose  in  arms  and  wrought  in  true  seafaring  style. 


56 


"I  can  recall  the  deed,  though  years  in  flight 
Have  borne  it  to  tlie  cloudy  past  away; 
Still  now  it  rises  in  rekindled  light 
As  plain  as  if  it  hapjjed  but  yesterday. 
For  there  are  things  that  never  can  decay, 
Though  deep  we  hide  them  in  negation's  mine; 
And  when  we  deem  they  are  unspeaking  clay. 
They  wake  and  fright  us  with  a  voice  malign. 
And  in  their  sinewy  coils  the  stoutest  heart  entwine. 


"As  sunk  the  Pleiads  in  the  leaden  brine, 
And  winds  blew  light  from  Oyolava's  land, 
The  signal  rang;   and  bent  on  ill  design 
In  grim  array  appeared  th'  rebellious  band. 
To  strife  they  fell;   dealt  with  such  lusty  hand 
That  at  their  mercy  soon  the  vessel  laid; 

But  still  unconquered  Vangs  applied  his  brand. 
And  on  their  ranks  a  dread  impression  made; 
The  bravest  at  his  rage  uncertain  stood  dismay'd. 


"At  once  the  jarring  rovers  to  compose, 
And  bring  the  Briton  to  an  early  peace, 
I  headlong  pushed  among  the  clenching  foes, 
And  shouting,  bade  the  work  of  carnage  cease. 
The  combat  lulled;   and  as  by  slow  degrees 
Order  returned,  I  challeng'd  Vangs  to  try 

A  single  combat.     Flash'd  like  fire  his  krees. 
And  dark  his  scowl  and  fierce  his  angry  eye; 
Ere  long  we  closed  in  wrath — to  conquer  or  to  die. 


"With  cruel  force  my  foeman  plied  his  brand, 
His  blood  was  hot  in  ire;   the  fiery  glow 
Of  his  wild  eyes  gleam 'd  wilder,  as  his  hand 
That  oft  had  caused  the  gory  streams  to  flow 
Aimed  to  inflict  a  last — a  fatal  blow. 
In  vain  I  sought  to  beat  his  .strokes  aside, 

My  arm  was  powerless  'gainst  so  dread  a  foe, 
And  when  at  length  a  des[)erate  lunge  I  tried, 
I  caught  his  point  and  fell,  bathed  in  a  crimson  tide. 


57 


"My  wound  was  sharp.     All  feeling  fled  before 
The  shock  that  paralyzed  the  vital  stream; 
And  senseless  to  my  berth  the  seamen  bore 

My  blood-grim'd  form.     There  with  uncertain  gleam 
Life's  taper  burned.     At  length  the  doubtful  dream 
Passed  o'er,  and  by  degrees  my  strength  renew 'd. 

But  fast  in  durance  pent,  no  sunny  beam 
With  genial  warmth — Nature's  inspiring  food — 
My  energies  awoke,  by  mingled  ills  subdued. 


"Thus  I  remain'd,  whilst  on  our  course  we  stood— 
Bound  homeward  to  our  long-forsaken  isle — 
When  one  dark  night,  as  in  a  dreary  mood 
I  sought  in  sleep  my  anguish  to  beguile, 
I  heard  o'er-head,  shouts,  maledictions  vile, 
And  Vangs'  deep  voice  o'er  all  arising  higher; 

Intent  I  heard;   and  in  a  little  while 
The  awful  truth  flashed  on  my  senses  dire; 
Grim  fear  upon  me  seized — the  vessel  was  on  fire! 


"In  frantic  rage  my  prison  bars  I  beat, 

For  now  the  boats  were  filling  with  the  crew; 
Each  moment  too,  increased  the  scorching  heat, 
As  more  abaft  the  flames  devouring  flew; 
And  then  I  gazed  my  cabin  window  through, 
And  felt  augmented  horror  o'er  me  creep. 

As  swift  the  boats  receded  from  my  view 

Across  the  smooth  and  molten-bosomed  deep; 

Anon  for  help  implored  or  hopeless  sank  to  weep. 


"But  sudden  on  my  ear  there  fell  a  sound 
Of  oars,  and  gazing  o'er  the  lurid  tide, 
Amid  the  pitchy  smoke  that  drifted  round, 
A  boat  with  one  lone  oarsman  I  descried; 
Hope  flashed  anew.     My  voice  for  aid  I  plied; 
He  heard — he  paused — then  swiftly  row'd  away. 

I  thought  him  gone;    but  soon  the  door  awide 
Was  thrown,  and  ere  I  could  delight  betray, 
Dave  Vangs  himself  appeared  my  terror  to  allay. 


58 


"Forth  through  the  suffocating  heat  he  led 

Me  to  the  pinnace,  and  when  set  within, 

With  nen'ous  strokes  across  the  deep  we  sped; 

For  ever  and  anon — with  sounding  din — 

Shot  from  the  heated  guns  began  to  spin 

Above  our  heads.     Beyond  this  cannonade 

We  paused  to  ^^'atch  the  fiery  demon  win 
Its  rapid  way.     Ere  long  the  flames  invade 
The  powder  store;   and  lo!   in  ruin  all  is  laid! 


"We  suffered  much;   but  as  the  wind  was  fair, 
Held  the  light  skiff  before  the  veering  foam. 
Three  days  elapse;   when,  through  the  ambient  air. 
Like  a  blue  vapor,  loom'd  our  islet-home; 
And  just  as  Twilight's  glimmer  'gan  to  gloam, 
Shot  o'er  the  bar  and  moored  upon  the  strand. 
Thankful  for  life — resolved  no  more  to  roam 
From  the  safe-circuit  of  the  genial  land; 
Thus  musing  hied  away  and  pleased  each  object  scann'd. 


"With  weary  feet  we  sought  this  lonely  tower, 
Where  fixed  remained  a  section  of  our  band 
To  guard  the  spoil,  lest  in  an  evil  hour 
Invasive  keels  should  pass  the  circling  sand, 
And  fell  possession  of  the  isle  demand. 
To  these  lorn  comrades  we  rehearsed  our  tale — 
So  sad  but  few  its  influence  could  withstand — 
And  mingled  with  the  dull  vibrating  gale 
Was  manhood's  broken  groan  and  woman's   plaintive  wail, 


"But  who  with  heart  a-breaking,  most  bewailed 
The  missing  brave,  who  most  in  pity  sighed. 
Like  thee,  Timandra!     Thou  whose  glance  assailed 
My  inmost  soul,  that  conscious  vainly  tried 
To  turn  the  woe-presaging  shaft  aside. 
Thou  fair  Timandra,  how  I  worshipped  thee! 

How  for  thee  suffered,  since  my  hand  was  dyed 
With  that  red  stain  which  blots  whate'er  I  see, 
And  conjures  goblins  foul  that  rack  me  hideously! 


59 


"Ah,  well  I  loved  thee!     For  thee  I  yearned 
With  an  intensity,  hot  as  the  rays 
Of  Barca's  sun!     Ay,  loved  when  passion  spumed, 
Merged  into  one  fierce  bolt — one  hellish  blaze 
That  still  within  my  scorching  bosom  plays! 
But  why  arouse  the  dead?     Why  from  their  tomb 

The  spectres  of  a  grisled  past  upraise  ? 
What  though  Vangs  won  thee?     In  nocturnal  gloom 
Deep  in  yon  stagnant  pool  he  met  a  murderous  doom ! 


"I  slew  him;   and  his  gurgling  sobs,  as  crept 
The  whelming  eddies  o'er  his  gelid  mold, 
Into  my  ears  like  stygian  peans  leapt. 

Fierce  was  my  joy;   and  short  as  fierce,  there  roll'd 
Amid  those  strains  a  subtler  note  that  told 
Of  peace  departed.     From  that  hour  I  bore 

The  mark  of  Cain,  that  where,  or  sea  or  wold 
I  chanced  a  fugitive  to  wander  o'er, 
Confest  my  crime — that  crime  that  steept  my  soul  in  gore. 

"It  matters  not  to  tell  how  I  escaped 

From  this  curst  isle — the  region  of  that  crime; 
Or  how  through  weary  years  my  course  I  shaped, 
Until  besprinkled  with  the  frosts  of  time, 
A  hopeless  man,  I  sought  this  lonely  clime. 
'Twas  tenantless.     Amazed  I  groped  around. 

And  near  yon  palms  that  to  the  sea-winds  chime, 
I,  choked  with  grief,  espied  a  grassy  mound 
Marked  by  a  wooden  cross  with  clustering  blossoms  crowned. 


"Timandra's  grave!     Amid  the  clasping  turf 

She  sleeps  in  trance  unbroken — sleeps  though  shrill 
The  keen  winds  whistle — and  the  rumbling  surf 
Sonorous  thunders;    or  from  yonder  hill 
The  cowering  birds  with  cries  the  concave  fill. 
She  sleeps!     With  her  my  fondest  hopes  are  laid, 

With  her  shall  they  remain,  entombed,  until 
Th'  imperious  voice  of  Fate  shall  bid  my  shade 
Launch  from  its  ashy  coil  and  ghostly  realms  invade!" 


60 


The  pirate  ceased:   as  closed  his  story  grim, 

Aurora  smiled  above  the  eastern  hills; 
The  woods  resound,  and  through  the  azure  dim 

In  golden  eddies  foam  the  moaning  rills. 

Nature  awakes;    her  pulse  the  landscape  thrills. 
And  all  with  life  inspires.     Our  men  uprose 

And  hasty  sought  their  cheer.     Hen  Nebo  wills 
The  forest  to  explore — thenceward  he  goes; 
His  comrade  into  life  the  arid  tinder  blows. 


Anon  when  rural  fare  their  hunger  fed, 

The  circumjacent  lands  around  they  rove, 
And  jocund  view  spontaneous  bounties  spread 

O'er  mountain,  glen,  and  solemn-looking  grove. 

Long  thus  they  rambled,  till  a  thicket  wove 
With  heat-excluding  woof,  to  rest  invites. 

Here  stretch'd  at  length,  across  a  glassy  cove. 
They  saw  astounded,  from  the  neighboring  heights, 
Titanic  moas  wing  their  long,  laborious  flights. 


While  thus  in  idlesse  prone  the  seamen  lay, 
Watchful  of  what  their  vision  pass'd  before, 

Ben  Nebo's  thoughts  were  wand 'ring  far  away. 
And  often  sought  his  long  forsaken  shore — 
That  shore  which  he  might  never  visit  more. 

And  musing  thus  his  thoughts  began  to  lower, 
Congenial  to  the  winds,  that  whisp'ring  o'er 

The  distant  seas,  sighed  thro'  the  nemorous  bower, 
And  filled  with  pensive  dreams  the  spirit-soothing  hour. 


Then  Nora's  charms  in  added  freshness  rose, 
And  woke  to  voice  the  love-inspiring  song; 

From  his  distilling  lips  the  measure  flows 
In  nervous  verse — in  mellow  tide  along, 
As  thousand  beauteous  scenes  his  fancy  throng. 

Of  love  he  sang,  whence  sprang  its  mystic  birth, 
Its  mystic  chain  that  binds  the  weak  and  strong, 

Or  bends  to  anguish  or  exalts  to  mirth, 
All  that  as  mortals  press  the  air-suspended  earth. 


61 


As  the  sweet  image  rose  before  his  mind — 

Thought  he,  no  other  with  such  charms  could  vie: 
For  Love  is  selfish,  arrogant  and  blind. 

And  prone  to  cheat  the  most  experienced  eye; 

Besides,  by  nature  being  rather  sly 
He  rollicks  in  a  good,  clean-cutting  jest. 

Nor  cares  how  deep  love-smitten  creatures  sigh; 
How  swains  go  mad;    how  feverish  maidens  rest; 
Or  how  the  grandam  coos  with  spasms  in  her  breast. 


Ere  yet  the  crescent  reached  the  middle  dome, 
Both  heroes  trod  the  steep-ascending  road, 

Rejoiced  to  gain  their  rude,  but  friendly  home. 
And  cast  aside  their  heart-oppressive  load 
In  slumber's  torpid  spell.     I3ut  dreams  forebode 

The  wished  enchantment;  troubled  they  repose; 
Within  each  sleeper  thoughts  tumultuous  rode — 

In  slumber-breaking  hosts — presaging  woes 
Portentous  which  no  mere  word-painting  can  disclose. 


Ben  Nebo  vainly  sought  to  fall  asleep; 

Keen  were  his  senses — feverish  they  wrought 
In  tempest  visions  such  as  darkling  sweep 

Through  some  Byronic  soul  by  Angels  taught 

To  sing  the  terrors  of  Immortal  thought. 
He  tost,  he  murmur'd,  as  ^long  they  cours'd, 

Till  all  the  darkness  scem'd  with  spectres  fraught; 
Then,  horrified,  from  his  deep  silence  forc'd, 
He  hailed  his  comrade:    long  the  two  sad  men  discours'd. 


And  thus  the  mate:     "'Perchance   these  dreams   are  sent 

As  subtle  warnings  of  some  peril  laid 
By  foes  unknown,  yet  primed  with  fell  intent 

Our  lives  to  end.     But  by  this  mystic  aid 

We  may  the  dangers  of  the  hour  evade," 
He  said.     The  twain  uprose;    throughout  that  night 

With  nervous  steps  bestrode  the  dewy  glade; 
When  in  alarm  Ben  Nebo  saw  a  light 
Fixed  on  the  barren  shore  below  the  turret's  hight. 


62 


He  then  his  comrade  hailed;   both  men  alarmed 

Gazed  on  the  light,  which,  as  the  air  was  clear. 
Proved  a  huge  tire,  by  wild-men  lit,  who  swarmed 

Around  the  whirling  blaze  in  rude  career. 

Till  dawn  our  sailors  watched  in  livid  fear 
The  blacks  carouse;   when  in  periguas  stowed 

They  stood  away.     Once  from  the  island  sheer, 
Our  seamen  to  the  smould'ring  embers  strode, 
And  there  beheld  a  sight  that  man's  foul  nature  showed. 


There,  cast  about  the  ashes,  did  appear 

Fragments  of  human  flesh;   dark  clots  of  gore 

And  bones  black -si  ngcil,  grim  relics  of  the  cheer 
Which  had  sufliccd  the  cannibals,  when  o'er 
The  >*-aters  roaming,  on  this  lonesome  shore 

They  landed  to  partake  their  hideous  fare. 
Sick  at  the  sight  our  heroes  homeward  bore, 

Musing  on  what  they  saw;  and  loth  to  spare 
The  next  swart  troop  that  should  invade  their  lonely  lair. 


But  scarce  they  left  the  foul-ensanguin'd  scene, 
\\'hen  Nebo  roused  a  black,  who  fast  asleep 

Had  laid  a  copse  of  sago-trees  between. 
Woke  by  th'  intrusion,  with  a  sudden  leap 
He  rose,  and  fled  so  swiftly,  as  to  keep 

Our  seamen  far  l)ehind,  though  hot  to  slay 
The  flying  wretch.     At  length  a  rocky  steep 

Enveiled  him  from  pursuit.     There  hid  he  lay 
Till  the  blue  waters  drank  the  fading  hues  of  day; 


Then  cat-like  out  he  came.     In  quest  of  prey 
He  sought  the  offals  of  the  ghastful  feast; 

But  by  our  heroes  seen,  they  dogged  his  way 
As  hunters  dog  some  dread,  ferocious  beast, 
Nor  till  the  spot  was  reached  this  duty  ceased. 

But  as  from  out  the  wood  they  boldly  prest 
The  savage  turned — his  inky  visage  creased — 

And  ere  a  death  shot  could  the  deed  arrest, 
Th'  illfated  mate  received  a  javelin  in  his  breast. 


63 


As  sinks  the  shotted  corse  beneath  the  wave, 
So  sank  the  mate  at  that  death-deaHng  blow; 

Yet  ere  his  spirit  to  the  winds  he  gave, 
Ben  Nebo's  musket  laid  the  slayer  low — 
Yet  poorly  recompensed  his  poignant  woe. 

Then  on  the  mate's  remains  he  sadly  gazed, 
And  mused  on  things  but  the  afflicted  know — 

Things  that  grim-shapen  nigh  his  reason  crazed, 
Which  doleful  Horror  from  his  devilish  gulfs  upraised. 


All  things  must  perish.     Once  their  work  is  done, 

All  in  negation  must  dissolve  away; 
The  noble  oak  when  its  last  sand  has  run 

Shall  only  later  than  frail  man  decay; 

But  later  still  the  Pyramids  shall  lay 
In  atoms  prone,  and  Earth,  still  later  rent, 

Shall  like  these  all  Destruction's  law  obey. 
All,  all  must  perish,  such  their  chief  intent, 
From  chaos  first  they  came  in  chaos  to  be  blent. 


Ay,  all  must  perish:   nought  of  earth  can  stand 

The  ever-gnawing  tooth  of  deathful  Time 
That  eats  into  all  things.     Man's  temples  grand; 

His  proudest  columns;   empires  reared  sublime; 

The  mind's  great  efforts;   Nature's  wonders  prime. 
In  his  sharp  fang  succumb.     Thus  Allah  wills — 

They  rise  spontaneous;   at  th'  appointed  chime 
Expiring  sink.     The  mightiest  globe  that  fills 
The  depthless  void  for  naught  its  wondrous  power  distills. 


'Tis  evening's  hour.     The  dying  orb  of  day 
Veils  his  last  gleam  beyond  the  purple  sea, 

As  sad  Ben  Nebo  wends  his  lonely  way 

Down  the  steep  hill  and  o'er  the  winding  lea, 
To  where  a  trench  beneath  a  rifted  tree 

Wide-gaping  yawns.     Here  must  the  mate  repose; 
His  oft-selected  tomb,  and  near  where  she, 

Timandra,  whom  he  loved,  when  living  chose 
As  her  eternal  crypt  when  life's  black  dream  should  close. 


€4 


Whilst  his  dull  task  the  pensive  man  pursues, 
Excursive  sorrows  through  his  bosom  stream; 

Again  the  chequered  past  his  mind  reviews, 

And  scans  a  length'ned  waste,  where  scarce  a  gleam 
Of  light  breaks  thro'  the  gloom — where  horrors  teem, 

And  all  is  turmoil,  doubt  and  wretchedness; 

Such  the  dark  thoughts — unlit  by  cheering  beam — 

That  his  afflicted  spirit  earthward  press; 
Until  he  doubted  life  and  longed  for  nothingness. 


In  vain!     Who  can  reverse  his  orbit  here, 
Or  guide  his  being  as  his  sovereign  mind? 

Who  shape  his  course  as  his  own  timoneer. 
Or  sail  without  an  over-ruling  wind — 
Who  mauger  Fate  can  journey  unconfined? 

Man's  but  the  toy  of  an  omniscient  power. 
Whose  foresight  hath  his  farthest  acts  designed. 

Hath  sent  him  here  to  mewl  his  little  hour, 
And  wither  at  a  blast  like  the  frost-bitten  flower. 


His  day  is  closed  before  his  Morn's  begun — 
Ere  yet  the  grain  is  ripe  the  scythe  resounds — 

At  one  fell  swoop  his  life-inspiring  sun 

From  beaming  light  into  grim  darkness  bounds, 
Like  downy-blossomed  plants  o'er  meadow  grounds 

By  winds  impelled,  his  flying  years  succeed, 
One  raven  shadow  all  his  sky  surrounds, 

And  dim  the  ray  that  may  his  spirit  lead; 
Here  till  his  work  be  done,  unhappy  man  must  bleed. 


Yet  Allah  ruleth  all — in  Him  we  move, 
In  Him  our  being  have,  our  bents  pursue; 

He  prompts  to  toil,  he  leads  mankind  above; 
He  bathes  the  landscape  in  its  varied  hue, 
And  wheels  the  stars  etherial  orbits  through. 

All,  all  are  full  of  Him:    the  Seasons  raise 
Their  thankful  homage  as  they  sweep  anew; 

And  man,  vain  man  should  join  the  votive  praise- 
ExtolHng  the  great  Source,  of  all  that  he  surveys. 


Go 


The  crow  is  chanting  on  the  rifted  ledge, 

Loud-roarings  echo  from  the  deep,  where  white, 

'Gainst  billow-breaking  rocks  along  the  edge. 

Hoarse  beats  the  surge.     No  more  in  serried  flight 
The  wild-ducks  fly;    but  on  the  sheltered  hight 

Condensed  await  in  expectation  still 

The  gathering  storm.     Anon  in  rising  might 

Upsurging  ocean  chafes;   shores  whistle  shrill; 
Crags  moan;  woods  nodding  roar,  and  howls  the  topmost  hill. 


As  night  o'er  all  her  sable  mantle  spread, 
Ben  Nebo  sought  the  solitary  tower, 

And  whilst  the  embers  weird  reflections  shed, 
He  close-encoiled  in  Retrospection's  power 
In  doleful  thought  beguiled  the  wintr\-  hour; 

No  soothing  slumber  lulled  that  thought  to  rest, 
But  fiery  pangs  his  deepest  soul  devour; 

Love  still  a  vigil  kept  within  his  breast, 
.\nd  by  the  sounds  without  still  deeper  was  imprest. 


Imbound  in  moody  dreams  he  drooping  bent 
Before  the  lurid  and  inconstant  blaze — 

Heedless  of  all — on  his  own  woes  intent — 
Though  rude  without  the  blust'ring  tempest  plays. 
And  blows  the  flame  a  thousand  diflferent  ways. 

But  he,  sad  hermit  in  his  ruined  cell, 

Disowns  the  present,  and  the  past  surveys; 

By  sorrow  taught  within  himself  to  dwell — 
He  breathed  on  earth  but  lived  in  climes  invisible. 


66 

LAGOS  ; 
A  TALE  OF   MEXICO 


To  GEORGE  T.  HANLY,  Esq.,  Editor  " San  Frmndsco  Star. 
This  Poem  a  inscribed. 


I. 


High-towering  in  the  fulgent  skies, 
Rich  with  a  thousand  radiant  dyes, 
CoHma  Hfts  his  rugged  head 
Where  Evening's  beam  is  glimmering  red, 
And  gazing  down  the  scope  afar 
First  hails  the  waking  vesper-star, 
That,  trembling  o'er  the  western  main. 
Leads  forth  the  nightly-glittering  train; 
And  glancing  on  the  latticed  porch, 
Still  tinged  with  Eve's  empurpling  torch, 
With  pensive  lightness  coyly  steals — 
A  graceful  figure  half-reveals, 
A  matron  rich  in  beauty's  charms, 
Who  lulls  an  infant  in  her  arms, 
And  soft  as  plaintive  zephyrs  sigh 
Peals  the  sleep-wooing  lullaby. 

Her  face  in  glowing  beauties  drest. 
The  riches  of  her  mind  exprest. 
Her  lovely  cheeks  vermillion  shed 
Like  blooming  roses  streaked  with  red; 
Majestic  grace  her  form  displays. 
Her  eyes  like  radiant  sapphires  blaze, 
Or  drooping  cast  a  softer  gleam 
Calm  as  the  night  dispelling  beam. 


67 


In  garb  of  richest  woof  arrayed 

That  well  her  matchless  form  displayed, 

She  seemed  a  thing  of  higher  birth 

Than  being  of  this  lowly  earth; 

Flowers  decked  her  rich  brocaded  vest. 

And  pearls  gleamed  brightly  on  her  breast, 

Which,  whiter  than  the  fairest  snow, 

Heaved  with  an  ever-gentle  flow 

Like  summer  waves  when  winds  are  low. 

She  was  in  sooth  a  thing  divine, 

Of  beauty  the  transcendant  shrine — 

Beauty,  which  Seraphs  might  adore 

And  hymns  in  admiration  pour; 

Such  beauty  as  in  days  agone 

On  beauteous  Eve  was  showered  upon, 

Or  that  fair  queen  of  all  above, 

Pronounced  the  arbitress  of  Love. 

Prone  on  her  lap  the  cherub  lay. 
Nor  agile  more  in  wanton  play; 
But  locked  within  its  mother's  arms 
Sequestered  slept  from  all  alarms, 
Blest  by  the  tender  look  that  fell 
From  her  who  loved  it  ovenvell; 
For  of  all  fires  that  warm  the  heart 
Maternal  love  can  best  impart 
A  lustrous  and  unquenching  flame, 
That  burns  in  every  change  the  same. 

As  on  her  babe  the  mother's  glance 
Shone  in  a  calm  and  pensive  trance, 
She  dreamed  as  only  mothers  dream 
Of  what  the  future  might  beseem 
To  that,  who  of  herself  a  part, 
Now  closely  nestled  to  her  heait. 
She  dreamed  until  her  dreams  were  stilled 
By  a  deep  voice  that  through  her  thrilled; 
And  soon  a  graceful  youth  appeared — 
His  look  her  drooping  spirits  cheered, 
And  Lagos  to  his  loving  breast 
His  darling  wife  Corina  prest! 


68 


A  daring  youth  lo  ^\'arfare  bred, 
He  long  a  troop  of  horsemen  led 
On  many  a  dark,  ensanguined  field, 
Where  might  the  subtle  Aztec  wield 
In  all  the  craft  of  savage  art 
The  lassoo  and  the  venomed  dart. 
In  worth,  in  honor  fauUless  found, 
For  deeds  of  daring  far  renowned 
He  left  Altata's  barren  glade 
To  seek  Colima's  woody  shade, 
Whence  from  a  thousand  envious  eyes 
He  bore  Corina — lovely  prize. 
Unto  his  home  again  he  came 
Victorious  with  the  beauteous  dame, 
And  passed  awhile  the  circling  hours 
Sweet  as  the  balm  of  nectared  flowers, 
Till  duty  summoned  him  afar, 
And  bade  him  wait  the  shock  of  war, 
Beneath  the  shadowy  vail,  that  down. 
Far-stretching  from  Colima's  crown, 
Throws  on  the  varied  landscape  wide 
Deep  gloom  when  evening  shadows  glide. 

In  vain  can  dim-eyed  man  descry 
The  clouds  that  blot  the  future's  sky; 
To  him  it  glistens  all  serene, 
No  shadows  mar  the  smiling  scene; 
But  whilst  he  gazes,  shades  arise. 
And  hoarse  the  howling  tempest  flies. 
The  drum-note  wakes  the  camp  around, 
Colima  hears  the  stirring  sound. 
And  answers  as  from  yonder  hill 
The  bugle  pours  its  summons  shrill. 
Rousing  the  soldier  from  his  bed 
War's  slippery  path  again  to  thread — 
That  path  that  manly  spirits  claim 
That  lures  but  darkly  leads  to  fame. 
Yet  which  the  brave  so  boldly  dare, 
Content  to  meet  Death's  fearful  glare 
A  victor's  gory  wreath  to  wear. 
The  martial  sounds  vibrating  far, 
To  Lagos  speak  of  coming  war; 


69 


Up  from  his  downy  couch  he  sprang, 
Obedient  to  the  warHke  clang, 
And  pausing  but  his  babe  to  bless — 
Corina's  Hps  to  fondly  press, 
He  hurried  to  the  frowning  fort 
Where  Vega  held  his  martial  court, 
And  joining  there  his  chosen  band 
Of  heroes  from  Durango's  land, 
Awaited  his  grim  chiefs  command. 

As  mustered  on  the  level  ground 
The  swarthy  warriors  stood  around; 
Doblado — second  to  his  chief — 
Bespoke  his  mandate  stern  and  brief — 
This  Lagos  bade  in  urgent  need 
His  soldiers  to  Altata  lead, 
Whose  people  for  some  unknown  cause 
Had  mocked  the  honor  of  the  laws, 
And  conquering  now  in  wrath  and  pride, 
The  nation's  power  unawed  defied. 

The  soldier  heard :  with  nervous  hand 

He  raised  aloft  his  glittering  brand, 

And  waving  the  extended  blade 

Thus  to  the  haughty  chieftain  said: 

"Throughout  the  world  no  land  I  know 

But  this  fair  land  of  Mexico; 

A  native  of  her  ardent  clime. 

Life  should  to  her  my  faith  sublime, 

And  I  would  gladly  spill  my  blood. 

Could  she  obtain  a  meed  of  good, 

Yet  to  Altata 's  hallowed  site, 

I  cannot  lead  the  deathful  fight; 

'Twas  there  my  native  breath  I  drew. 

There  to  maturing  manhood  grew. 

There  still  in  honest  worth  reside 

The  friends  of  youth — my  cherished  pride. 

Wherefore,  I  ask,  oh  gracious  chief. 

To  spare  an  act  so  full  of  grief. 

Nor  to  my  ever  deep  disgrace 

Press  me  to  strike  my  native  place  1 " 


70 


Fierce  ire  aroused  Doblado's  soul, 
And  burst  headlong  through  all  control ! 
In  tig'rish  wrath  he  glared  around 
And  his  set  teeth  spasmodic  ground, 
Then,  as  the  angry  torrent  broke, 
To  Lagos  thus  he  hoarsely  spoke: 
"  Ha,  dost  thy  craven  spirit  dread 
The  gor)'  path  of  war  to  thread  ? 
And  shun  the  duty  which  thy  word 
By  Heaven  and  all  thy  comrades  heard, 
Avouched  unto  thy  country's  laws — 
Reckless,  if  right  or  wrong  the  cause. 
Ha,  dost  thou  quail  when  danger  calls. 
And  foes  are  thundering  at  our  walls; 
Oh,  man  accursed — oh,  craven  base — 
Thou  foul  dishonor  to  thy  race, 
I  will  awake  thy  livid  soul 
And  thy  unmanly  fear  control, 
For  thou  this  order  shalt  obey 
Or  crushed  beneath  our  stirrup  lay." 


He  said:  but  scarce  his  words  were  cold 
Than  grasped  within  its  iron  hold. 
Flashed  logos'  sabre  in  the  light 
Like  bolt  amid  the  gloom  of  night. 
And,  thence  upon  the  haughty  foe 
Descended  the  resistless  blow, 
And  bounding  on  the  dusty  mold 
His  gor)'  head  convulsive  rolled! 

Then  from  a  thousand  dusky  throats 
Grim  horror  rang  in  thunderous  notes, 
And  fiercely  many  a  visage  dark, 
On  Lagos  scowled  with  vengeance  stark. 
While  sinewy  arms  around  him  closed 
Which  vainly  all  his  strength  opposed. 
And  him  exultant  bore  away 
To  dungeon  cell  there  pent  to  lay 
Till  prone  beneath  the  muskets'  breath 
His  haughty  spirit  sank  in  death. 


71 
II. 


Soft  is  the  dying  blush  of  day 

That  gHnts  across  the  azure  bay, 

And  touching  Manzanillo's  roofs 

With  pensive  fire — meek  evenings'  woofs 

In  varied  brightness  bids  them  shine, 

Like  crystals  from  Golconda's  mine. 

And  poised  on  many  a  drooping  spray 

Tuneful  as  evening  melts  away, 

The  warbling  race  their  anthems  raise 

In  deep,  melodious  roundelays, 

That  heard  the  echoing  woods  among 

Seem  tones  by  choirs  ether ial  sung; 

While  o'er  the  landscape  beauty  drew 

Her  pencil  rich  with  every  hue 

That  limner  might  attempt  in  vain 

From  mimic  colors  to  obtain. 

And  as  the  lustre  softer  fell. 

Meek  silence  breathed  her  elfin  spell, 

Save  when  the  herdsman's  light  guitar 

In  plaintive  tinklings  rolled  afar, 

And  stealing  througli  the  sylvan  wild 

With  dreamy  notes  the  ear  beguiled. 

Sweet  was  the  hour  and  sweet  the  scene — 
Sweeter  than  Beauty's  sweetest  mien, 
It  soothed  the  gazing  dreamer's  breast, 
Brought  visions  of  that  hallowed  rest 
Messiah  promiseth  the  Blest. 

Boom!  boom!  boom! 
But,  see,  from  yonder  fort,  how  slow, 

Grim-faced  and  mute,  the  soldiers  come; 
The  trumpet  wails  a  note  of  woe, 
And  hoarsely  rolls  the  muflled  drum: 
Booml  boom!  boom! 

Now  halting  on  the  training-ground 
They  form  in  hollow  square  around, 
While  from  the  hill,  with  cannon  crowned. 
Deep  guns  in  minute  thunders  sound. 


vNIVERSfiy 


) 


7* 


Ay,  he  must  fall,  no  hand  can  save 
That  warrior  from  a  gor)^  grave, 
Yet  still  he  bears  himself  as  proud 
As  if  with  war-worn  wreath  endowed; 
Though  shorn  of  every  outward  grace 
Pride  still  is  vivid  on  his  face, 
That  pride  which  every  hero  feels 
Though  death-charged  fate  invading  steals, 
Which  shines  effulgent  in  distress 
Nor  pales  till  lost  in  nothingness. 

The  guns  have  ceased  their  thundering  sounds- 
No  more  the  trumpet  wails, 

Nor  funeral  drum  with  dismal  notes 
The  woeful  ear  assails. 

But  silence  in  her  grave-like  fold 

Wraps  every  heart  around. 
And  all  in  anxious  dread  await 

The  volley's  closing  sound. 

But  ere  death  freed  his  dauntless  soul, 
Ere  yet  he  heard  the  drum's  last  roll, 
A  child's  sweet  voice  the  silence  broke — 
**  Mamma,  mamma,"  it  lisping  spoke. 
Roused  at  the  cr}- — the  prisoner  turned — 
And  soon  the  lovely  babe  discerned ; 
Then  with  a  scream  as  woman's  shrill, 
That  through  each  gazer  sent  a  thrill, 
Cried  in  a  voice  half-wild  with  joy — 
**Ah,  art  thou  there,  my  darling  boy  ? 
Come,  let  me  once  again  thee  press — 
Thee  with  my  breath  departing  bless, 
And  thee  unto  my  bosom  strain. 
Sweet  babe — I  ne'er  shall  see  again ! " 

She  said:  and  from  the  guardsmen  flew 
And  to  her  heart  the  infant  drew; 
Who  gazing  on  her  beaming  eyes 
Exprest  its  joy  in  piercing  cries. 
While  all  the  stricken  crowd  around 
Stood  mute  in  deep  amazement  bound. 
♦  *  *  * 


73 


'Twas  soon  explained — the  loving  wife 
Resolved  to  save  her  loved  one's  life. 
Disguised,  she  sought  his  prison  cell, 
As  dusk  enweaved  her  shadowy  spell — 
An  agent  from  Corina  came,  - 
From  death  the  fated  man  to  claim, 
And  bade  him  fly  with  quickest  speed 
While  she  would  in  his  favor  plead 
For  pardon  of  such  wild  misdeed. 

He  heard:  forth  from  the  dungeon  sped 
And  toward  the  sea-coast  swiftly  fled, 
Unknowing  that  Corina  stood 
Alone  to  brave  a  tyrant's  mood. 
And  haply  with  her  life-blood  seal 
That  faith  her  fears  could  not  conceal — 
Sublime  in  woe  as  true  in  weal. 

Thus  rarely  does  the  manly  sense 
To  woman  yield  due  recompense, 
Or  feel  the  ecstasy  that  lies 
In  an  unselfish  sacrifice. 
When  urged  by  love  to  idolize 
She  gladly  for  that  idol  dies. 

To  her  who  loves,  but  one  deep  sting 
Can  life  with  all  its  sorrows  bring; 
The  baneful  sting  that  galls  the  heart 
Beyond  the  aid  of  human  art, 
When  the  terrific  truth  is  known, 
That  all  she  loved  's  no  more  her  own. 
That  the  fond  object — loved  o'er  well, 
Which  o'er  her  cast  a  deathless  spell. 
Hath  chilled  its  fires  in  blighting  frost 
And  sinks  from  her — forever  lost! 

Corina  felt  the  heavenly  flame — 

Resolved  her  idol's  tomb  to  claim; 

She  daring  trod  the  path  of  death. 

Nor  shunned  the  muskets'  volleyed  breath. 


74 


Which  soon  beneath  the  leaden  stoim 
Had  mangled  laid  her  beauteous  form, 
But  for  her  babe — whose  instinct  keen 
Descried  beneath  that  haughty  mien, 
That  martial  dress  and  visage  swart, 
And  proud,  imperious,  scornful  port, 
The  mother  who  with  dauntless  soul 
Had  crushed  the  feelings  which  control 
Less  noble  spirits,  and  to  save 
Her  Lagos,  dared  a  tragic  grave. 
Its  voice  with  talismanic  power 
Dispersed  the  terrors  of  that  hour; 
And  nestling  on  its  mother's  breast 
The  lovely  cherub — fondly  blest, 
There  gently  sank  in  soothing  rest! 


ITALIA. 


Addreaed  to  Carlo  Dondkro,  the  lulian  Poet. 


Italia,  heaven-favored  land. 
Where  Arts  and  Arms  in  pomp  expand, 
Where  Beauty  smiles  and  Passion  glows, 
And  Music  sweetly-chorded  flows, 
Where  Love  and  Lore  and  Poetry 
In  holy  sisterhood  agree; 
Land  of  Durante,  mighty  bard. 
And  Angelo,  immortal-starred, 
Who  reared  aloft  the  glorious  dome 
That  signals  still  eternal  Rome. 
Land  of  the  past,  regenerate. 
Of  Garibaldi,  hero  great, 
Freedom's  transcendant  magistrate ! 


75 


SERPENT'S      HEAD. 


To  WASHINGTON  MARION,  Esq.,  of  San  Francisco, 
This  Poem  is  inscribed. 


Once  in  a  sea-girt  land 
By  tropic  breezes  fanned, 

An  ancient  black  to  me  a  Fetish  gave; 
And  solemnly  averred 
As  he  the  boon  conferred, 

That  it  the  wearer  would  from  danger  save. 

The  mystic  thing  I  took, 
Yet  ill  its  shape  could  brook 

For  'twas  a  Serpent's  head  of  livid  hue, 
Enswathed  in  platted  grass — 
Begirt  with  clasps  of  brass. 

And  brazen  chains  most  singular  to  view. 

Of  rubies  were  the  eyes — 
Death  seeming  to  devise; 

An  azure  crest  upon  its  brow  appeared, 
And  fangs  of  hideous  white 
Gleamed,  a  terrific  sight 

From  yawning  jaws  ringed  with  a  purple  beard. 

From  Niger's  sacred  bank 
Where  nods  the  rushlet  dank, 

And  huge  behemoth  growling  mocks  the  main; 
Chafing  in  endless  jar 
The  marly  river-bar, 

From  there  this  relic  came — of  ill  the  bane. 

Blessed  in  the  full-moon's  light 
Upon  a  festal  night 

From  priestly  hands  an  amulet  it  came. 
And  twined  in  grasses  wierd, 
Three-sided — double-speared, 

For  virtues  great  had  won  a  shining  fame. 


76 


I  took  the  talisman; 

(And  ye  explain  who  can — ) 

I  from  that  hour  was  blessed  by  guardian  Fate; 
Coursed  seas  of  vast  extent — 
Unscathed  through  perils  went, 

Through  terrors  which  might  Tophet  ante-date. 

And  long  that  hallowed  sign 
Did  near  my  heart  enshrine, 

For  sooth,  it  seemed  with  sybil-powers  endowed — 
Braced  me  in  hurricane, 
On  Cortez*  howling  main, 

To  steadfast  stand  when  terror  others  cowed. 

To  mock  the  lightning  flash, 
The  thunder's  deafening  crash — 

And  when  a  deadly  bolt  the  steersman  slew; 
Nerved  me  with  steady  hand 
To  at  the  tiller  stand. 

And  hold  my  post  that  night-long  tempest  through. 

Yea,  thus  to  me  a  charm 
From  every  mortal  harm 

It  was  until  one  glimmering-moon-lit  night, 
When  in  the  cannoned  trench. 
Upon  a  turfy  bench, 

I  slumbered  dense,  worn  with  the  noon-day  fight. 

There  as  I  slept  profound — 
As  near  the  sentry  round. 

His  vigils  held  and  pealed  his  signal-note; 
In  drowsy  visions  I 
A  swart  form  did  espy 

Winding  his  subtle  hands  around  my  throat. 

Then  with  a  sudden  grasp. 
The  Fetish  did  unclasp, 

That  Fetish  I  so  long  as  sacred  held; 
Then  swiftly  from  me  flew, 
Ere  I  my  sabre  drew. 

Or  him  did  chase  by  deep  amazement  spelled. 


n 


Then  led  my  loss  to  me, 
Alert  I  did  pursue, 

But  that  curst  shade  had  from  the  gun-hill  fled; 
Nor  aught  of  him  descried 
Though  spread  the  chase  awide 

No  sign  of  him,  no  trace  of  serpent  head. 

And  thus  I  lost  my  charm — 
So  fate  did  me  disarm 

Of  that  eld  negros'  ill-averting-spell ; 
And  from  that  fated  hour 
In  many  a  baneful  shower 

Misfortunes'  ills  upon  me  darkly  fell. 

But  time  rolled  on — again 
On  Esquinapa's  plain 

A  lovelier  Fetish  to  my  bosom  came; 
No  serpent's  skull  it  bore, 
No  waft  from  Quorra's  shore, 

No  grisled  charm — no  eyes  of  soulless  flame. 

But  in  a  woman's  form 
With  vivid  beauty  warm, 

And  saintly  face  and  eyes  of  raven  hue; 
And  shape  of  peerless  mold. 
Locks  rich  as  radiant  gold. 

And  sweetness  such  as  Eve  unsinning  knew. 

With  bosom  lily-white, 
With  graces  soft  alight. 

And  spirit  as  Alaskan  snow-flake  pure; 
A  spirit  breathing  love 
Like  that  the  turtle-dove. 

Avouches  oft,  that  will  till  death  endure. 

So  pure,  so  fair,  so  kind, 

She  seemed  by  Heaven  designed 

To  show  Perfection  yet  on  earth  had  place; 
That  here  in  mortal  mold, 
As  in  earth  precious  gold, 

Appeared  a  being  of  celestial  race. 


78 


And  such  to  me  she  seemed, 
Upon  me  brightly  gleamed, 

As  yon  night-lamp  that  now  looks  softly  down; 
Chasing  each  shadow  grim. 
That  did  my  spirit  dim. 

As  when  the  moon  o*er  gloom  exalts  her  crown. 

Yet  ere  the  light  I  hailed, 
It  sank  in  shade  enveiled, 

As  sinks  yon  star  that  late  so  brightly  shone; 
Hope  from  me  swiftly  past, 
Despair  his  mantle  cast, 

My  Fetish  lost,  I  stood  in  clouds  alone. 

Long  chafed  I  at  my  fate 
In  sadness,  desolate. 

As  men  have  chafed  whose  idols  all  destroyed — 
Have  felt  all  pleasure  fled, 
That  living  they  were  dead. 

By  nought  of  hope  in  seas  of  sorrow  buoyed. 

Disconsolate  I  grieved, 

And  wreaths  of  cypress  weaved 

Around  the  love  so  rudely  from  me  torn; 
Nor  deemed  an  earthly  balm. 
Could  grief  of  pangs  disarm. 

Save  that  which  comes  to  him  to  Ades  borne. 

Till  I  a  Fetish  found 
In  oracles  imbound — 

In  oracles  to  man  by  Shiloh  sent — 
To  soothe  his  every  pain. 
And  wean  him  back  again 

To  that  pure  state  he  once  did  ornament. 

In  Heaven's  oracles 
Mid  many  mystic  spells 

The  Fetish  Grace  did  there  effulgent  shine — 
Grace  with  Redemption  crowned, 
And  Faith,  an  anchor  sound. 

Fairest  of  gifts  to  man  from  hand  divine. 


79 


Nor  withered  serpent's  head, 
This  Fetish  could  bestead 

Nor  that  subHmer  charm  of  woman  pure — 
Though  this  in  beauty's  sheen, 
And  that  in  ghastly  mien, 

Would  fain  the  sense  with  magic  art  allure. 

By  Faith  I  learned  to  rise, 
Above  the  woe  that  lies 

A  boundless  flood  around  this  lower  state, 
And  saw  if  Heaven  austere. 
Sent  anguish  to  us  here, 

'Twas  but  from  dross  our  souls  to  renovate. 

Ay,  Faith  alone  can  bless 
All  else  is  nothingness, 

Nor  rest  like  this  Philosophy  unfolds; 
Where  he  by  sorrow  torn — 
Above  its  billows  borne 

Rides  into  Peace,  while  Mercy  steadfast  holds. 

So  nerved  with  this  ally — 
I  every  blast  defy, 

Nor  more  a  desperate  man  to  ruin  scud; 
Elohim  guards  me  well, 
His  grace  my  fetish-spell 

For  sinners  wrought  through  the  Redeemer's  blood ! 


LEDA. 


Peters,  who  paints  a  portrait  well, 
In  higher  Art  can  too,  excel. 
As  all  must  own,  who  gaze  upon 
Fair  Leda  and  the  amorous  swan! 


8o 


SAMOA. 


To  GEO.  HUDSON,  Esq.,  CounscUor-at-Uiw.  ot  San  Francisco, 
this  Poem  is  inscribed. 


By  the  sea-marge  dreaming, 
While  the  sea-wave  gleaming, 

Shakes  its  snouy  crest  along  the  shore; 
Rest  I  sadly  brooding, 
Pensive  thought  obtruding, 

Wailing  visions  lost  forevermore. 

While  yon  Orb  descending, 
O'er  the  sea-line  bending, 

Dips  his  golden  axle  in  the  main, 
And  wth  added  splendor. 
Takes  his  last  look  tender. 

Of  an  hour  he  ne'er  shall  see  again. 

And  around  him  glowing, 
Hues  irradiant  showing, 

Flash  the  skies  with  draperies  of  gold, 
O'er  the  offing  glancing, 
Elfin-like,  entrancing 

Every  sense  in  Rapture's  vivid  fold. 

Mj-stic  fancies  wreathing, 
While  the  zeph)T  breathing 

Through  the  rustling  palm-tops,  scarcely  heard, 
Soothes  the  soul  repining. 
Every  thought  refining — 

Tuneful  as  the  nightly-singing  bird. 

And  majestic  rearing, 
O'er  the  verge  appearing, 

Looms  thy  peak,  Samoa,  in  the  skies; 
While  like  death  drums  beating. 
Requiem  strains  repeating, 

Sea-waves  chant  where  lost  Marina  lies. 


8i 


There  her  hallowed  ashes, 
Oft  the  Sea-sprite  dashes 

Ruthless-souled  upon  the  coral  strand; 
There  in  anger  broken, 
Scatters  many  a  token 

Riven  from  her  form  with  wrenching  hand. 

There  the  Sea-elf,  droning, 
Joins  the  green-wave  moaning — 

There  the  conch  its  sea-born  murmur  rings; 
There  the  white  gull  wailing, 
On  the  night-gust  sailing 

Dirgeful  o'er  her  mouldering  image  sings. 

Still,  though  lockt  in  ocean. 
Memory,  with  devotion, 

O'er  thy  tomb,  Marina,  oft  shall  bend; 
And  in  lustre  shining, 
From  the  surge  confining. 

Beauteous  as  in  life,  thou  shalt  ascend : 

Every  murmur  sounding, 
Every  scene  surrounding, 

Every  changing  hue  thy  shape  restore; 
In  each  mystic  vision. 
Like  a  dream  elysian. 

Rise  thy  lustrous  form  my  gaze  before. 

Then  ye  hoarse-tongued  surges. 
Why  in  endless  dirges 

Sing  her  anthems,  as  forever  lost  ? 
Though  with  sea-kelp  laden, 
Tombed,  the  dark-eyed  maiden 

Sleeps  in  ocean's  billow  rudely  tost. 

When  each  sunset  beaming, 
When  my  spirit  dreaming, 

Wakes  her  from  her  coral-guarded  tomb; 
Wakes  no  phantom  livid, 
But  a  seraph  vivid. 

Who  with  radiant  light  can  every  shade  illume ! 


8i 


SHI  LOH. 


To  JAMES  S.  COLEMAN,  M.  D.,  of  San  Francisco, 
this  Poem  a  inscribed. 


The  glorious  hour  draws  near, 
Foretold  by  eld  time  seer, 

When  from  a  Virgin's  loins  a  babe  shall  spring; 
Nen'ed  with  celestial  fire, 
Elohim  his  mighty  sire, 

To  sinful  man  enduring  bliss  to  bring. 

No  quakings  of  the  world, 
No  standards  bright  unfurled, 

No  shout  of  nations  hailed  the  wondrous  child; 
The  sphere  unheeding  rolled 
Upon  its  axis,  cold, 

Nor  mortal  cheered  though  hosts  seraphic  smiled. 

Not  in  illustrious  power. 
Nor  light-bedazzling  hour 

He  came  in  mortal  shape  to  mortal  kind. 
But  in  a  manger  low. 
Where  but  the  star-beams  show 

His  sacred  form  on  couch  of  straw  reclined. 

Nor  regal  was  the  place 
Whence  to  his  erring  race 

He  first  to  them  an  earthly  shape  assumed. 
But  in  a  lowly  town 
He  left  his  godly  crown 

And  bliss  forsook  to  hideous  trials  doomed. 

And  thus  the  heaven-sent  child 
From  pomp,  from  power  exiled, 

His  life  momentous  upon  earth  began; 
So  into  manhood  grew, 
So  won  by  labor's  dew 

His  daily  bread,  a  humble,  toiling  man. 


83 

So  came  the  son  of  Him 
Whom  man  with  vision  dim 

Can  darkly  scan,  as  darkly  contemplate; 
Infinite,  yet  finite, 
Eternal  source  of  light, 

Of  mercy  vast,  of  love  compassionate. 

No  sect,  no  creed,  he  knew, 
No  Gentile,  Pagan,  Jew, 

But  that  one  creed  which  love  sublime  bestows; 
That  in  all  how'er  base 
Sees  part  of  Heaven's  race, 

And  o'er  their  faults  a  veil  of  kindness  throws. 

The  mystic  Three  in  one, 
God,  Holy  Ghost  and  Son, 

Shaddai,  Logos,  Shiloh,  Comforter, 
Emanuel,  Paraclete, 
With  holy  grace  replete. 

Of  newer  life  to  man — the  messenger. 

Yea,  grace  of  compass  vast. 
For  which  might  earth  aghast, 

In  vainful  search  revolve  her  axle  round; 
Grace  without  curbing  span — 
To  angel,  demon,  man. 

And  now  as  then  to  all  unstinted  found. 

Thus  charged  with  love  to  win 
Men  from  the  bond  of  sin 

He  came  to  lead  them  to  their  gracious  Lord; 
So  made  himself  as  dross. 
So  dared  the  fearful  Cross, 

So  poured  his  blood  for  souls  who  him  abhorred. 

Oh,  awful  sacrifice. 
Which  but  he  could  devise 

Who  stood  o'er  all  for  deep  affection  crowned; 
Thou  Shiloh,  thou  alone. 
For  man  could  thus  atone. 

Thou  fount  of  heavenly  Grace,  of  Love  profound ! 


84 

OUR      LAND: 
A    CENTENNIAL     ODE. 


To  IRA  P.  RANKIN,  Esq.,  President  of  the  Handel  Mid  Haydn  Society, 
this  Poem  is  inscribed. 


Time,  wheeling  in  untiring  round, 
Now  with  a  Century's  garland  crowned. 

Signals  that  honored  day 
When  Freedom,  rising  from  her  chains, 
Triumphant  swept  her  native  plains  * 

On  her  auspicious  way. 

No  trumpet  now  with  shrill  alarms 
Awakes  our  warlike  youth  to  arms. 

Nor  rackt  vrith  grief  profound. 
The  matron  lists  in  boding  fear, 
Or  maiden  trembling,  hearkens  near 

The  drums'  convulsing  sound. 

Oh,  favored  land !     May  Peace,  as  now 
Thy  free-bom  hosts  with  bliss  endow — 

And  Plenty  ever  reign: 
Nor  clamorous  Strife  with  grisled  hand 
Across  thy  fruitful  vales  expand. 

Nor  thy  escutcheon  stain. 

But  vivid  with  a  spotless  fame, 
And  jealous  of  a  noble  name 

Such  as  their  grandsires  bore — 
Thy  sons,  the  path  of  Right  pursue, 
With  balanced  Justice  held  in  view, 

And  Freedom's  beam  before. 


85 


While  through  each  justly-ordered  State, 
Strict  duty  nerves  each  magistrate; 

And  villains,  struck  with  awe, 
Feel,  though  in  public  rapine  bold, 
That  wealth  cannot  swell  uncontrolled. 

Nor  power  defy  the  law. 

That  all  are  equal — brothers  blent 
In  sacred  ties — on  good  intent. 

And  earnest  to  advance 
The  cause  of  Progress,  and  afar, 
Extend  the  light  of  Freedom's  star 

Through  Earth's  unlit  expanse. 

Such  be  our  land — this  heritage — 
This  gift  of  an  illustrious  age; 

By  heroes  boldly  won, 
When  Tyranny  they  backward  hurled. 
And  shook  a  deeply-wondering  world 

At  glorious  Lexington! 

Heroic  men !     They  freely  gave 
All  life  allowed,  this  boon  to  save, 

And  by  example  showed 
How  we  may  use  the  gracious  prize. 
How  duly  to  distinction  rise, 

On  Honor's  golden  road. 

They,  nerved  by  Faith,  and  strictly  just. 
In  Heaven  placed  unswerving  trust, 

And  wrought  with  hope  elate; 
Conscious  a  never-failing  power 
Would  guide  them  in  disaster's  hour, 

And  guard  the  forming  State. 

So  led  by  an  AU-Powerful  hand 
May  we  advance  our  goodly  land, 

Nor  dread  afflicting  woes — 
Disease,  that  smites  with  unseen  force — 
Nor  haggard  Famine,  croaking  hoarse. 

Nor  death-disparting  foes. 


86 


But  while  Contentment  smiles  around, 
And  decks  the  vales  with  Plenty  crowned, 

The  husbandman  shall  sing, 
And  bless  in  many  a  gleesoine  lay 
The  gifts  which  every  circling  day 

In  sumptuous  bounty  bring. 

And  as  the  strain  vibrates  along 
Let  ever)'  voice  resound  the  song, 

And  every  heart  expand; 
Grateful  to  that  Auspicious  Power, 
Who  sheds  an  ever-bounteous  shower, 

Such  blessings  on  our  land ! 


JOHN     P.    JONES. 


When  dark  Inflation  lowered  upon  the  land 
One  spirit  dared  its  wild  career  witlistand, 
One  voice  was  heard  above  the  clamorous  throng, 
One  voice  that  stayed  its  onward  course  along; 
When  JoxEs,  uprising  in  the  Nation's  Halls, 
Inclosed  the  monster  in  enduring  thralls, 
And  all  sagacious,  nerved  with  Logic's  force 
Silenced  its  minions  round  him  clamoring  hoarse. 

So  armed  with  reason,  fearless  in  debate, 
May  he  still  guard  the  interests  of  the  State, 
Be  now,  as  then  to  public  weal  the  friend, 
Nor  from  his  lofty  station  deign  to  bend; 
So  may  he  still  against  Corruption  war. 
And  shine  Nevada's  peerless  Senator ! 


87 


INEZ     BERRY 


Inscribed  to  WASHINGTON  MARION,  Esq.,  of  San  Francisco. 


Sad  is  the  strain,  by  sorrow  moved  to  sing; 

I  wail  a  gentle  spirit  passed  away, 
Smote  like  a  lovely  floweret  in  its  spring 

Ere  yet  full  blooming  destined  to  decay. 

So  thou,  sweet  Inez,  once  our  cherished  pride 
Whom  now  we  mourn  with  never-ending  sighs, 

A  lengthened  span  on  this  low  orb  denied — 
Thee  only  now  our  hearts  can  memorize. 

Bright  were  thy  virtues — bright  thy  winsome  mind. 
Fair  was  thy  form — thy  heart  compassionate; 

In  thee,  the  fairest  charms  of  womankind — 
Those  radiant  charms  that  grace  this  lowly  state 

Beamed  sweetly  forth;  a  noble  soul  was  thine. 
With  lofty  purpose  and  with  good  imprest; 

Yea,  heavenly  light  did  on  thee  brightly  shine, 
And  thee  in  Virtue's  beaming  graces  drest. 

By  this  thou  walked  serenely  to  the  goal 

Of  deathless  life,  though  ills  did  thee  surround; 

Foresaw  eternal  rest  when  freed  thy  soul, 
And  passing  hence  a  blessed  refuge  found. 

And  though  departed  ere  thy  star  was  full, 
Why  at  the  stroke  should  we  in  grief  repine  ? 

No  mortal  plaint  can  Heaven's  will  annul. 
And  love  with  faith  its  idol  must  resign. 


88 


Nor  should  we  grieve,  since  thy  translated  shade 
Now  feels  the  bliss  of  life  by  goodness  won; 

Why  hopeless  droop  in  dismal  serge  arrayed 
When  thou  art  cheered  by  an  unclouded  sun  ? 

Alas!    The  heart  still  toward  its  idols  turns, 
Still  dreams  of  those  once  hallowed  by  its  love, 

Still  incense  to  the  loved  one  fondly  burns, 
And  hapless  ^'ails  the  seraph  throned  above. 

So  thou,  sweet  Inez,  still  our  hearts  for  thee 
In  never-ceasing  plaints  of  anguish  weep. 

Grieving,  alas!  that  thou  hast  ceased  to  be, 
Or  with  us  here  thine  earthly  pathway  keep. 

And  grieving  still,  as  evening  circles  round. 
And  ruddy  tinges  flush  the  western  sky. 

Shall  Pity  at  thy  shrine  be  constant  found, 
And  sad  Remembrance  o'er  thee  deeply  sigh ! 


POET'S    GRAVE. 


To  EDWIN  DEAKIN.  Etq..  Artist,  of  S»n  Francisco. 
This  Poem  is  inscribed. 


When  after  all  the  toils  of  life 

The  minstrel  seeks  the  mystic  shore, 

And  anchored  from  the  stormy  strife, 
At  earthly  tempests  frets  no  more; 

Then  in  a  woodland's  questered  shade 
Be  his  forsaken  temple  laid. 
Where  mortal  foot  may  rarely  press; 
Secluded  in  the  wilderness, 
Where  human  plaint  or  human  tear, 
Or  voice  of  pilgrim  passing  near 

Cannot  offend 
His  shadow,  lost  in  thought  austere. 


89 


But  where  impend 
Arboreal  clusters  dense,  may  gales 
In  ever  deep,  pathetic  wails, 

His  dirges  sound. 

And  woods,  vine-crowned. 
Their  wild-toned  tributes  breathe, 
And  grasses  fondly  wreathe 

His  burial  mound; 
The  only  laurels  save  his  song, 
As  should  enwave  his  tomb  along, 
Or  murmur,  as  they  nod  inclined, 
His  memory  to  the  rustling  wind. 
Or  when  the  wild  blast  hoarsely  sings 
And  strikes  the  woodland's  mazy  strings, 
Be  this  alone  his  funeral  peal; 
Or,  if  a  softer  music  steal 
From  warbling  choirs  in  secret  hid, 
He  needs  no  worthier  pyramid 
Than  their  sweet  lays — a  votive  song 
That  rolls  unending  as  the  sphere  along. 

While  in  successive  round, 

With  rose  or  snow-drop  crowned. 
The  flying  years  on  tireless  axle  bound; 
While  Spring  in  radiant  smiles  appears, 
Or  Autumn,  sallow-browed  careers. 
Shall  flower)'  tributes,  grasses  brown, 
And  withered  leaves  and  tufts  that  crown 
The  arching  oak  and  riven  bark. 
And  mosses  white  and  lichens  dark, 
Immingling  o'er  his  grave  arise, 
Like  him,  to  time  a  sacrifice. 
And  build  his  monument,  that  lasts 
Till  Winter  wakes  his  sullen  blasts. 
That  wastes  with  every  year  away, 
And  rises  to  again  decay. 

While  through  the  woods  that  intervene 
His  tomb  and  ocean's  marge  between. 
May  through  the  curving  boughs  be  seen 
The  heaving  billow,  crisp  and  green, 
O'er  which  in  life  he  may  have  been. 


90 


Now  stretching  far  and  foaming  white, 

And  glancing  in  the  mii-day  Hght, 

Or  flushed  with  morning's  crimson  ray, 

Or  golden-hued  at  set  of  day; 

Yet  in  each  change  the  same  vast  deep 

Where  airj*  sprites  their  orgies  keep,     . 

And  whose  hoarse  voice  upon  the  shore, 

Perpetual  pours  its  muffled  roar, 

That  roar,  which  he  who  sleeps,  again 

May  soothe  as  when  the  billowy  plain 

He  swept  and  grimly  joyed  to  hear 

Those  mournful  echoes  pulsing  near. 

Still  pulsing  may  his  shadow  hear, 

And  tremble  with  a  joy  severe, 

Like  that  which  shades  from  earth  removed, 

May  feel  lor  those  they  deeply  loved, 

When  some  chance  accent  wakes  again 

The  hallowed  face  and  sacred  strain; 

Or  saddened  at  the  gloomy  peal 

Perchance  a  tinge  of  sadness  feel 

When  Memory,  answering  to  the  sound. 

Recalls  the  past,  with  sorrow  crowned. 

Or  when  as  Eventide 

In  rosy  blushes  dyed, 
Crawls  wierdly  o'er  the  glimmering  land, 
And  deeper  on  the  winding  strand 

The  billows  beat. 

And  elfin  strains  repeat: 

May  one  blest  Shade  arise. 

One  whom  Love  deifies, 
And  white- winged  to  his  tomb  repair, 
And  cheer  his  shadow  drooping  there, 
Which  haply  mourns  the  lyre  foregone. 
Nor  heard  its  strains  the  earth  upon ; 
As  nerveless  as  the  minstrel's  fame 
That's  but  a   tablets  fading  name, 
Yet  which ^the'powers  of  Nature  own, 
Though  deep  in  nought  by  mankind  thrown. 
And  so  the  winds  his  requiems  sing, 
So  trills  with  grief  each  leafy  string. 
So  warbling  birds  awake  their  lays. 
So  o'er  his  dust  stars  sadly  blaze; 


91 


While  fairy  shapes  at  midnight  brood, 
And  wailing  shake  the  solitude, 
Or  nymphs  by  moonlight  haunt  the  glade 
Where  he  they  loved  is  mouldering  laid — 
A  deep-set  grief  all  Nature  feels, 
Each  gust,  each  lay,  this  grief  reveals. 
She  mourns  the  Bard,  who  loving  her 
Was  her  sweet-tongued  interpreter ! 


MIDNIGHT: 
A  REMINISCENCE   OF  MAZATLAN. 


Inscribed  to  HENRY  A.  COBB,  Major-General, 
National  Guard  of  California. 


'Tis  midnight,  and  across  the  azure  skies 

The  glistening  spheres  with  noiseless  step  pursue 

Their  endless  march.     Silence  o'er  all  expands 

Her  dreamy  pall,  nor  voice  is  heard  to  break 

Its  funeral  stillness,  save  the  sentry's  cry 

As  on  the  Cuartel's  parapet  he  keeps 

His  watchful  vigil — or,  when  lengthening  deep 

From  oceans'  marge  the  restless  surge  resounds, 

And  moaning,  fills  the  heart  with  sadness  wierd. 

Save  these  dull  sounds,  the  air  unbroken  rests, 

And  earth  and  sky  in  silence  sleep  enjoined. 

It  was  an  hour  for  thought — for  solemn  thought 
Born  of  its  mystery,  when  visions  strange 
And  nameless  from  the  realms  of  shade,  arise 
In  shape  fantastic;  when  the  soul  returns 
Upon  the  past  and  mirrors  various  things 
Long  in  oblivion  tombed,  and  spectres  wake 
To  blast  the  senses  with  their  woful  forms. 


Of  rM£    '^ 


'NIYER8(Tr 


0* 


Cbanned  by  the  hour,  across  my  spirit  stole 

A  soothing  harmo.iy.  yet  mixt  with  j^in 

As  all  things  earth-b.irn,  and  in  dreams  profound 

I  silent  sat  without  the  gate  that  led 

Into  the  guard-room.     At  length,  upon 

My  ears  a  sound  of  hoofs  resounded,  and 

I  saw  the  figure  of  a  horseman  speed 

Along  the  highway.     Thundering  on  he  came. 

But  ere  the  gate  he  reached,  a  loud  report 

Prolonged  upon  the  air  and  from  his  steed 

The  rider  fell.     Quick  at  the  sound 

The  guard  turned  out;  some,  hastened  to  the  spot 

Where  he  had  fallen — others,  ran  to  seize 

The  assassin,  whom  they  found  concealed  beneath 

The  carriage  of  a  cannon.     Him  they  seized 

And  bore  with  haste  imperious  to  the  ward 

Where  stood  the  colonel  of  the  barrack,  roused 

From  slumber,  by  the  shot's  alarming  sound. 

He  was  a  renegade  from  Ures — 
An  Indio,  who  for  some  slight  had  sworn 
The  General's  life.     Encharged  with  this  resolve 
He  deftly  lurked  within  the  Cuartel-yard 
By  a  huge  field-piece  hid,  and  screened  by  night 
There,  as  the  General,  rode  as  wont  to  make 
His  midnight  round,  the  stealthy  watcher  fired, 
And  from  his  carbine,  launched  the  messenger 
Of  death  precipitate.     The  victim  fell 
And  from  the  wound  his  soul  immediate  rushed. 
One  act  was  played. 

The  second  hastened  on. 
There  was  an  ancient  Square  that  fronted  on 
The  sea,  but  now  abandoned,  rarely  used 
Save  when  some  deed  of  blood  betimes  required 
Its  brief  employment.     In  the  centre  stood 
A  tall  and  time-worn  column,  on  whose  top 
A  ponderous  lantern  swung— a  lurid  star 
That  oft  had  lighted  souls  to  fate  malign. 
And  now  must  light  another  soul  along 
The  road  of  death. 


93 


Against  this  mouldering  spire 
The  swarthy  murderer  stood.     His  iron  face 
No  sign  of  fear  evincing,  as  erect 
He  scowled  upon  the  deathful  band,  whose  hands 
Trained  the  portentous  muzzles  on  his  heart. 
Without,  in  a  half-crescent,  stood  the  crowd 
Restless  and  silent,  while  aligned  within 
The  soldiery  appeared. 

All  was  prepared. 
Sudden  the  drum-note  rolled,  and    rattling  loud 
The  muskets'  voice  in  hoarse  alarum  swelled — 
And  weltering  in  his  gore  the  murderer  lay 
Quivering  beneath  the  glimmering  light.     Then  quick 
A  woman  frenzied— aged,  yet  strong  withal, 
Burst  wildly  through  the  throng,  and  with  a  shriek 
Fell  headlong  on  the  blood-stained  corse,  and  cried — 
**  My  son!  my  son!  " 


PARADISE 


To  GEORGE  ED.  BARNES,  Dramatic  Editor  "  Morning  Call, 
This  Poem  is  inscribed. 


It  is  the  hour  of  eve 

When  radiant  flushes  leave 
The  pallid  visage  of  departing  day, 

And  on  the  purple  rim 

Of  ocean,  glimmering  dim, 
His  golden  team  retiring  steals  away. 

Now  hushed,  the  balmy  air. 

Is  sprent  with  tinges  fair — 
With  blazing  wafts  that  round  his  axle  cling, 

Nor  wavers  at  a  sound, 

Save  ocean's  voice  profound, 
Or  veering  sea-gull  wierdly  murmuring. 


94 


A  season  meet  for  rest 

By  meditation  blest, 
When  Fancy  weaves  her  soul-enchanting  spells, 

And  elfish  visions  rise 

As  bright  as  yonder  skies, 
And  Recollection  many  a  legend  tells. 

Lockt  in  this  alley  green — 

These  cassia  plumes  between. 
Supinely  laid ,  a  dreamer  rests  alone — 

Beholds  with  pensive  eyes 

The  sunset-painted  skies, 
And  saddens  at  the  surfs  unceasing  moan. 

While  as  the  lulling  wind. 

Like  harp  of  spirit  kind, 
Sings  its  aerial  dirges  sadly  low, 

He  owns  a  grief  austere, 

He  mourns  a  memory  dear. 
He  droops  above  the  urn  of  long  ago. 

And  marks  a  rising  star, 

A  glistening  gem  afar, 
Pinnwi  on  the  sombre  cowl  of  lowering  night, 

A  lustrous  messenger, 

A  halcyon  ray,  from  her 
Who  long  from  earth  hath  winged  a  heavenly  flight. 

He  kindles  at  the  glow, 

A  joy  dispels  his  woe, 
As  shadow  flies  before  advancing  light. 

The  heavens  open  wide, 

Celestial  beings  glide — 
Celestial  scenes  amaze  his  raptured  sight. 

He  sees  a  land  of  flowers. 

Of  rose-bespangled  bowers, 
Of  emerald  lawns  and  twilight-shaded  dells, 

Where  dreamy  silence  broods 

In  olive-tinted  woods, 
And  jocund  Pleasure,  haunts  the  grottoed  cells. 


95 


Where  dark-eyed  houris  fair, 

Await  his  advent  there, 
And  one  he  loved — with  soul-entrancing  eyes, 

Leads  forth  the  glowing  throng, 

While  love,  and  mirth,  and  song. 
Proclaim  the  wildering  joys  of  Paradise! 


THY    SACRED    TOMB. 


Inez,  upon  thy  sacred  tomb 

Perpetual  blossoms  sweetly  spring, 

There,  curtained  in  the  sylvan  gloom, 
The  warbling  birds  thy  dirges  sing. 

There,  the  complaining  dove  bemoans 
Thy  beauteous  form,  the  turf  beneath, 

And  gentle  winds  in  plaintive  tones, 
Their  mournful  tributes  sadly  breathe. 

Each  wailing  gust,  each  warbled  sound, 
Thy  form  in  fancy  shall  restore, 

Thy  face  in  every  thought  be  found. 
Till  thought  itself  shall  be  no  more ! 


CHARLES   W.   ALEXANDER. 


He  paints  a  portrait  of  unusual  power — 
By  travel's  lightened  many  a  weary  hour — 
And  had  his  gifts  to  Art  devoted  been, 
A  better  artist  we  had  rarely  seen; 
But,  druid-like,  he  loves  the  sylvan  wild. 
And  worships  Nature  far  from  man  exiled. 


96 
YOSEMITE 


CompoAMl  on  tuing  a  painting  of  Vosemite,  by  William  Kbith. 


Before  me  grandly  rise 

Like  turrets  to  the  skies 
The  rampart  walls  that  bound  Yoscmite; 

Whose  vale,  an  emerald  gem 

On  Nature's  diadem, 
Lies  walled  in  rock,  as  guarded  jealously. 

And  high  in  sunlight  thrown, 

Each  mighty  beveled  cone 
Glints  back  the  saffron  hues  of  setting  day, 

And  sliafts  of  crispy  light 

Pierce  the  deep  valley's  night, 
Where  lucent  rivers  wind  their  solemn  way. 

While  from  the  topmost  ledge 

That  )-awns  o'er  ether's  edge, 
Descending,  Merced,  rolls  his  foaming  stream ; 

And  seems  in  fancy's  ear 

To  chant  in  tones  austere 
The  story  of  his  ever-hallowed  dream. 

Of  ages  that  have  past. 

Of  nations'  tomb^^^ard  cast. 
Of  a>»-ful  deeds  within  this  temple  wrought 

By  elemental  rage. 

Whose  deeply  graven  page 
Is  the  tremendous  vale  with  wonders  fraught. 

A  dream  of  m}'stic  days. 

Ere  yet  the  Saxon's  gaze 
Upon  this  scene  of  marvels  swept  profound; 

Ere  yet  thy  genius,  Keith, 

Had  wove  thy  artist  wreath. 
Or  bade  the  canvas  glow  with  nature  crowned. 


97 
UNDER    THE    PALM. 


To  Don  MIGUEL  G.  PRITCHARD.  (San  Francisco.) 
Acting  Consul  of  Mexico,  this  Poem  is  inscribed. 


Here  beneath  this  shading  palm 
Let  me  rest  in  dreamy  ease, 
Far  from  every  rude  alarm, 
While  the  spirit- soothing  breeze, 
And  the  ever-moaning  seas 
Roll  their  elfin  lullabies. 
Now  my  vision  wanders  o'er 
Boundless  surge  and  broken  shore, 
To  yon  crest  of  seething  foam, 
Where  the  shrieking  sea-gulls  roam, 
And  the  breakers'  endless  jar, 
Like  a  drum-peal  heard  afar, 
Rises  from  the  coral-bar; 
Thence,  beyond  the  glimmering  deep, 
Where  the  long-drawn  cloudlets  sleep — 
Stretcht  profound. 
Crimson-crowned, 
Drowsy  as  the  stillness  brooding  round. 

Now  I  mark  the  setting  sun, 
(His  diurnal  circuit  run,) 
On  the  golden-tinted  verge. 
His  effulgent  wheel  immerge — 
Flashing,  ere  he  sinks  in  night. 
O'er  the  scene  a  richer  light; 
While  aglow  with  rainbow  dyes. 
Blaze  the  cloudy-pillared  skies, 
And  the  ocean,  flushed  with  light. 
Glints  like  jasper  on  the  sight. 
Till  adown  the  purple  rim 

Softly  veering — 

Disappearing, 
Pales  his  glance  in  shadow  dim. 


98 


Now  the  gull  on  fluttering  wings 

Wear)'  seeks  her  nightly  rest, 

Home-returning,  wierdly  sings — 

Toil-worn  from  the  billow's  crest. 
And  the  elfs  of  night  come  out, 
Hear  the  owlets  dismal  shout — 
See  the  fire-flies  flit  about! 
Bearing  through  the  woodland  dark, 
Each  his  redly-  glancing  spark, 
While  the  beetle  deeply  drones; 
And  with  louder  pulsing  tones 
Like  a  dirge-peal  beat  afar, 
Hoarsely  chants  the  harbor-bar; 
Hoarsely  chants,  while  softly  rise 
Star-lamps  in  the  arching  skies. 
And  her  leaden-colored  pall 
Sadly,  Night,  casts  over  all. 

Now  within  this  sylvan  gloom 
Let  my  soul  with  Love  commune, 

lA)ve,  whose  light, 

Ever  bright, 
Can  the  darkest  shade  illume. 

Lo,  awakened  by  his  ray 

Comes  a  shape  all  grief  beguiling, 
Radiant  as  the  blaze  of  day — 

Like  a  syren  blandly  smiling! 

See  her  waxen  beauties  glow. 
See  her  bosom  white  as  snow. 
See  her  face  with  blushes  sweet. 
See  her  form  with  grace  replete. 
See  her  eyes — how  bright  they  shine. 
How  they  glance  with  light  divine! 

And  what  bliss 

In  each  kiss. 
As  her  arms  around  me  twine! 


99 
LOS    PADRES. 


Composed  in  the  Burial-Ground  of  the  Old  Church 
At  the  Mission  Dolores. 


To  JOHN  MAC  DONOUGH  FOARD,  Editor  "  Golden  Era' 
This  Poem  is  inscribed. 


Here  beneath  the  willow, 

Moaning  like  the  billow 
Softly  rolling  on  a  distant  shore — 

Rest  I,  sadly  musing, 

Pensive  thought  diffusing — 
Vanished  cycles  deeply  pondering  o'er. 

And  around  me  lying — 

Winds  above  them  sighing — 
Sleep  the  dead  of  long-receded  years; 

In  the  casket  Hvid, 

Ere  the  Saxon  vivid, 
Stained  the  hallowed  sod  with  blood  and  tears. 

Ere  across  the  ocean, 

Zealous  with  devotion. 
Came  the  Cross-crowned  Padre  from  afar — 

Bent  on  holy  mission. 

Braving  all  perdition, 
Following  in  his  course  the  western  star. 

Through  the  portal  golden 

Sailed  his  galley  olden. 
Till  in  Verba  Buena's  spacious  bay. 

With  her  saintly  cargo, 

Peace  her  last  embargo, 
Anchored  on  the  placid  wave  she  lay. 

Soon  a  church  arising, 

Savage  eye  surprising, 
Beacon-like  illumed  the  wilderness, 

Rampart-walled  infolding, 

Ever  steadfast  holding 
Gospel  fires  that  burning  shone  to  bless. 


100 


Now  the  founders  banished, 

From  the  living  vanished, 
Moulder  in  the  firmly-clasping  mould. 

Blind  to  every  wonder, 

Heedless  of  the  thunder 
Of  Progression's  Car,  above  them  rolled. 

Yei  betimes  appearing 

From  their  tombs  uprearing, 
Rise  their  shado>^'s  as  they  rise  to  night. 

While  the  moonbeam  tender, 

Bathes  in  silverj-splendor 
Every  solemn-visaged,  long-robed  sprite. 

And  before  me  sweeping, 

Time's  wide  chasm  leaping, 
Rolls  the  Past  with  all  its  varied 'deeds, 

And  the  Friar  v^'aking, 

To  his  task  betaking, 
Muttering  by  the  dim  light,  tells  his  beads. 

Or,  low-voiced  intoning, 

Through  the  chancel  droning, 
Slowly  peals  the  spirit-soothing  lay, 

While  the  pilgrim,  bending 

Swells  the  chant  ascending. 
Veiled  within  the  censer's  incense  gray. 

With  the  vapor  stealing. 

Elfin-sounding  pealing. 
Strains  unearthly  breathe  a  mystic  spell ; 

On  the  spirit  falling 

With  a  power  apf)alling, 
Like  the  pulsing  of  a  death-toned  bell. 

Harking  to  the  chiming. 

Faith  the  hour  subliming, 
Angel  shapes  in  tuneful  lays  repeat 

To  my  senses  dreaming, 

Rising  heavenward  seeming, 
Benedictions  unto  Him,  with  Grace  replete  I 


lOI 


TW^I  LIGHT 


To  ALBERT  P.  BRAYTON,  Esq.,  of  the  Pacific  Iron  Works, 
This  Poem  is  inscribed. 


When  in  the  twilight  dim 

I  muse  in  sorrow  grim 
Upon  the  past  and  all  its  scenes  recall, 

I  feel  a  pang  intense, 

As  retrospective  thence, 
I  think  on  those  I've  seen  death-stricken  fall. 

Where  are  the  forms  I  knew 

Ere  I  to  manhood  grew, 
Where  are  the  youthful  hearts  that  then  beat  high 

With  hope  and  ardor  keen  ? 

Ah,  vanished  from  the  scene 
In  dark  forgetfulness  they  mouldering  lie. 

Where  are  the  sterner  race 

That  later,  filled  their  place  ? 
Alas!  they  too,  have  ceased  to  meet  my  gaze. 

Save  when,  as  now  they  come 

From  deep  oblivion  numb. 
And  fade  again — ghosts  of  departed  days. 

So  many  thus  have  fled, 

So  many  with  the  dead 
Enrolled  have  been — that  pondering  on  them  all, 

I  seem  to  stand  alone — 

A  life  immortal  own. 
Proof  to  the  shafts  that  fell  and  round  me  fall. 

Yet  though  ordained  to  part. 

Grief  still  distracts  the  heart 
When  forced  to  yield  those  whom  it  has  enshrined 

Among  its  idols  fond; 

Ay,  sadly  will  despond, 
Though  in  their  exit  wisdom  be  divined. 


102 


Still,  as  we  journey  on, 

Each  step,  a  pilgrim  gone, 
Leaves  a  fresh  void  in  the  soul's  caravan, 

If  love  around  him  cast 

Its  silver  cords,  or  fast 
In  stronger  links,  some  gentler  shape  did  span. 

So  as  we  trench  on  age, 

Draw  near  our  pilgrimage, 
A  vale  of  tombs  the  trodden  past  appears — 

With  horrors  darkly  spread, 

Hopes  broken,  visions  (led, 
A  vale  of  grief  brewed  with  ceaseless  tears. 

Yet  o'er  the  wraiths  of  all. 

One  form  may  love  recall, 
One  form  mayhap  in  beauty  first  beheld 

At  life's  a>a'aking  mom, 

The  day-star  of  its  dawn — 
That  every  hour  with  joy  electric  spelled. 

Each  heart  bears  such  a  star 

That  bums,  though  shadows  mar 
Its  brightness,  and  to  him  who  bears  it  glows, 

An  eamest  of  that  bliss 

That  passed,  the  dark  abyss, 
All  gracious  Heaven  on  the  good  bestows. 

Then  hail,  oh,  sacred  ray! 

Sign  of  a  brighter  day — 
Of  sinless  rest,  which  grief  can  never  dim, 

When  those  we  loved,  refound. 

As  seraphs,  golden-crowned, 
Our  souls  to  endless  joy  exultant  hymn ! 


From  apes,  says  Darwin,  man  has  sprung — 
He  proves  it  by  his  apish  tongue. 


103 
PERDU 


Inscribed  to  JOHN  L.  BOONE,  Esq..  of  San  Francisco. 


Where  the  sea-winds  mutter, 
And  the  sea-waves  utter 

Sounding  dirges  on  the  echoing  shore; 
Where  the  vocal  leaflet 
Sighs  upon  the  reeflet, 

There  Marina  slumbers  evermore. 

There  the  sea-witch  moaning, 
Times  the  sea-surge  groaning, 

There  wierd  Echo  pours  her  solemn  roar 
Through  the  sea-cave  broken, 
Sprent  with  many  a  token, 

Many  a  spoil  from  Ocean's  wizard  store. 

There,  where  dimly  breaking. 
From  the  sea-verge  waking, 

Samoa's  peak  the  azure  waste  surveys; 
There  in  sea-weed  braided — 
Deep  in  coral  shaded. 

Hidden,  sleeps  Marina  from  my  gaze. 

Far  from  Pity  weeping — 
Love  his  vigil  keeping; 

In  the  sea  urn  mouldering  in  her  bloom. 
Sleeps  the  dark-eyed  maiden — 
Sleeps,  while  sorrow-  laden 

Sad  rememberance  wails  above  her  tomb. 

But  though  ruthless  surges 
Chant  her  only  dirges, 

And  no  signal  points  her  place  of  doom; 
Though  no  mourner  wailing, 
But  the  sea-gull  sailing 

Mourns  her  lustre  sank  in  endless  gloom ; 


I04 

Still,  when  evening  glimmers, 
And  the  crisp  \i-ave  shimmers, 

And  thy  brow,  Samoa,  purple  dyes; 
Pensive  thought  shall  render 
Votive  oflferings  lender, 

Breathing  o'er  her  fate  responsive  sighs. 

And  the  crested  billow 
Beating  round  her  pillow — 

F.lfln-winged  celestial  realms  explore, 
And  the  gust  au-aking. 
Through  the  death-locks  breaking, 

Oft  unto  my  sight  her  beauteous  shape  restore  I 


HAUNTED    SHORE. 


To  DAVID  WOOSTER,  M.  D.,  of  San  Francisco, 
This  Poem  is  inscril>ed. 


Ho  I  nearer  veer  thy  reeling  skiff. 
Ho!  nearer  to>*'ard  yon  looming  cliff. 

Upon  whose  pyramid, 

Eve's  glimmering  lid 
Now  droops  in  twilight-shadow  liid. 

Lo,  where  yon  white-topt  billows  roar, 
There,  Oarsman,  lies  the  haunted  shore; 
There,  three  years  since,  at  eventide 
I  stood  that  shadowing  crag  beside. 
And  saw  her  lustrous  form  expand — 
A  meteor-light  along  the  strand; 
I  saw  her  fleckt  with  sea-sedge  o'er, 
And  rise  my  wildered  gaze  before 
To  where  yon  planet  glowing  lies. 
Like  jasper  in  the  purple  skies; 
I  saw  her,  and — bismillah!  now — 
She  comes!  behold  that  headland's  brow, 
It  lightens!  say,  what  seest  thou? 


I05 

Naught  but  the  rising  evening  star. 

Away,  purbHnd,  yon  lustre  far 
Outshines  the  brightest  gem  of  heaven — 
' Tis  she,  by  all  my  sins  forgiven; 
She  comes  from  ocean's  caverned  tomb, 
This  heart  of  darkness  to  illume. 
Oh,  spirit,  hail!  thy  form  I  know, 
Though  urned  unfathomed  seas  below; 
Thou  comest  to  soothe  my  endless  pain, 
To  light  the  fires  of  hope  again, 
To  teach  my  spirit  still  to  bear 
The  fiery  wrenchings  of  despair. 
Sweet  image,  hail!  I  thought  thee  fled. 
Yea,  tombed  among  the  pallid  dead; 
Forever  gone — though  love  like  thine, 
And  sweetness,  beauty,  so  divine, 
Should  surely  be  immortal  things, 
And  rise  from  death  on  angel-wings; 
Themselves  a  part  of  heaven,  they 
Should  mock  the  canker  of  decay — 
Ay,  ever  as  enduring  be. 
As  is  my  love,  sweet  Shade  for  thee! 


THREE    ARTISTS. 


Within  an  attic  reared  on  high. 

Three  artists  skilled,  their  pencils  wield ; 
Brookes,  who  in  fish  can  all  defy, 

And  Deakin,  prone  to  rush  a-field, 
And  from  Dame  Nature  beauties  take, 
That  ever-pleasing  pictures  make; 
While  Loomis,  of  deep-sounding  voice, 
Will  in  a  woodland  sketch  rejoice, 
Or  leaving  oil,  a  "  thought "  to  lay  on, 
Oft  shows  his  fancy  with  a  crayon ! 


io6 
WHERE    YON    ELMS. 


iMcribcd  to  MRS.  H.  A.  DEM  INC.  of  Sui  Franciaco. 


I^,  where  yon  elms  inweave  a  mystic  shade, 
And  twining  woodbine  breathes  a  sweet  perfume; 
There,  while  my  flocks  have  indolently  strayed, 
Have  I  with  Fanq-'s  pictures  filled  the  gloom. 
There,  heard  the  bubbling  streamlet  chide  along, 
While  rustling  winds  responsive  murmured  round; 
There,  heard  the  linnet  pipe  her  cheerful  song 
And  join  the  throstle's  more  harmonious  sound. 
3  here,  in  deep  chorus  heard  the  warbling  choirs 
With  \-aried  note  the  echoing  labyrinth  fill, 
Jo)ful  as  Dawn  alit  her  morning  fires 
And  shone  effulgent  o'er  the  tufted  hill, 
Or  mournful,  when  declining  in  the  West, 
Day  sank  in  ebon  shade  his  golden  crest. 

Hark!  now  their  plaintive  madrigals  they  raise 
And  all  the  wood  remurmuring  owns  the  sound, 
While  yonder  sun  enveils  his  crimsom  blaze, 
And  Twilight  spreads  her  dusky  robe  around. 

I,  too,  shall  breathe  a  sorrow-laden  strain. 
And  sigh  as  fades  the  spirit-soothing  light; 
Bewail  a  day  I  ne'er  shall  see  again. 
Lost  in  the  gloom  of  Grief's  perpetual  night ! 


EPIGRAM. 


Death  once  upon  his  usual  round, 
A  cobbler  on  the  work-bench  found, 
And  cutting  short  his  mortal  tether. 
Removed  the  sole  from  the  top  leather. 


I07 
AWAY!     UNCLASPI 


Ii»3cribcd  to  GIOVANNI  B.  CEVASCO,  Editor  ••  La  Voce  del  Popolo." 


Away!     Unclasp  thy  waxen  arms, 
I  cannot  gaze  upon  thy  charms. 
Away!     Enveil  thy  star-Uke  eyes 
Where  death  in  dazzHng  beauty  Hes, 
Or  outward  launched,  a  upas  dart, 
With  ruin  blasts  the  gazer's  heart. 
Away !     I  dare  not  look  on  thee, 
Or  gazing,  ever  blinded  be; 
Those  rosy  lips  I  will  not  press. 
Thrice  deadlier  in  their  loveliness 
Than  Papua's  fruit  of  deepest  gold, 
Where  venom  lurks  in  every  fold. 
Away!     Nor  will  1  wind  a  tress 
Though  flowing  in  luxuriousness 
It  tempts  the  touch,  a  serpent-twine 
I  see  in  every  ringlet  shine — 
As  on  thy  brow,  whose  crystal  white 
Pales  the  pale  moon's  translucent  light, 
I  mark  a  grisled  spectre  glare. 
The  death -fanged  shadow  of  despair. 
That  warns — 

Awaylvthy  arms  unclasp, 
Than  these,  yea,  rather  python's  grasp 
Or  barb  of  life-destroying  asp; 
Thou  art  too  deadly— dear  to  me — 
I  dread  thy  love,  yet  worship  thee! 


EYES. 


There's  beauty  in  the  light  that  lies 
In  gems  that  stud  the  vaulted  skies, 
But  fairer  is  the  glance  that  flies 
From  woman's  love-inspiring  eyes. 


io8 
IN    EVERY    CLOUD. 


laKhbMl  to  A.  T.  DEWEY.  Eiq..  Publisher  of  the  <•  Pacific  Rund 
Pre»"  and  "  Mining  and  Scientific  Press." 


In  every  cloud 
Which  may  enshroud 
This  gloomy  vale  of  woe; 

Is  hid  a  purpose,  Heaven-sent 
To  man,  on  sordid  wiles  intent, 
With  worldly  pride  aglow. 

If  sunshine  here  unchanging  shone, 

Its  lustre  he  would  deem  his  own : 

Of  this  low  earth  grow  overfond, 

Nor  seek  the  fairer  realm  beyond 

The  mystic  pall  that  darkly  lies 

Tween  him  and  endless  Paradise. 

But  wrenched  by  grief,  his  humbled  sense 

Desires  a  brighter  recompense 

Than's  found  within  this  earthy  state, 

E'en  at  its  fairest,  desolate. 

And  chastened  by  the  wounding  smart. 
To  Heaven  lifts  his  suppliant  heart, 
Till  adoration  kindling  grovs. 
And  soothes  his  spirit-lancing  woes 
With  Faith,  of  bliss  the  harbinger. 
From  Christ,  the  eternal  Comforter. 

Thus,  when  upon  a  deluged  world 
The  Dove  her  trembling  wings  unfurled, 
No  tree  she  saw — no  place  of  rest 
Where  she  might  pause  her  weary  quest; 
And  turning,  smitten  with  despair, 
Resought  the  Ark  and  sheltered  there. 

But  when  she  found  the  floods  disperst. 
Nor  earth  in  boundless  seas  immerst. 
The  greening  hill-tops  lured  her  sight, 
She  winged  afar  her  wanton  flight; 
Forgetful,  from  the  Refuge  bore 
Which  she  had  sought  distrest  before ! 


I09 
CARA     MIA 


Inscribed  to  Dr.  S.  H.  ROBERTS,  of  San  Francisco. 


How  fair  yon  planet's  light 
That  gems  the  crystal  night! 
Yet  fairer  still  art  thou 
Whom  I  with  love  endow, 
Cara  Mia! 

In  thy  enchanting  face, 
A  heavenly  charm  I  trace, 
The  outward  beam  that  shows 
The  spirit's  pure  repose, 
That  like  a  nimbus  glows. 
And  sacred  lustre  throws, 
Cara  Mia! 

Yea,  saintly  modesty. 
With  gentle  ray,  in  thee 
An  earnest  shines  of  worth, 
And  makes  thee  scarce  of  earth, 
Cara  Mia. 

Thou  art  the  beacon-star 
That  through  life's  stormy  war 
My  being  lures;  thou  art 
The  idol  of  my  heart, 
Cara  Mia. 


EPIGRAM 


Augustus  as  a  beau  would  pass 
And  so  consults  his  looking-glass; 
But  finds  whenever  he  looks  there 
A  smirking  fool  return  his  stare. 


no 


WHO     ART    THOU? 


iMcribcd  to  A.  ROMAN.  Siq..  Pnbluher.  of  Su  Francisco. 


Hol  who  art  ihou  iliat  comest  to  me? 
A  phantom  from  beneath  the  sea — 
Pale  as  the  form  that  lies  below 
Samoa's  billow;  white  as  snow. 
And  lovelier  than  yon  rising  star 
That  glances  in  the  skies  afar. 

I  know  that  shape — and  art  thou  still 

Obedient  to  an  earthly  will  ? 

Or  dost  thou  come  from  climes  unknown 

To  make  this  heart  again  thine  own  ? 

Say,  spirit;  say — or  do  I  dream, 

And  art  thou  but  a  fancied  gleam, 

A  radiant  vision  of  the  mind, 

Tliat  passing,  leaves  distress  behind  ? 

If  this  aw^y !  but  if  thou  art 
Of  her  the  uncreated  part, 
Oh,  with  thee  bid  my  spirit  rise 
Beyond  those  azure-arching  skies; 
Farther  than  Memor)''s  surge  can  roll. 
Or  Anguish  shake  the  hopeless  soul ! 


TO   ALEXANDER   BADLAM. 


When  from  your  meerschaum  rolls  the  vapor  gray, 
Let  every  curl  this  salient  truth  convey: 
1  hat,  like  a  Pipe,  Man  is  a  thing  of  clay. 
And,  like  its  Weed,  pre-destined  to  decay; 
Each  Nature's  law  unchanging  must  obey. 
Puff  here  awhile  and  puffing  melt  away  1 


Ill 


LAKE    DONNER 


Composed  on  seeing  a  picture  of  Lake  Donner  by  Edwin  Deakin. 


Where  mounts  tremendous  rise 

In  fleecy-clouded  skies, 
An  azure  sheet,  thy  lake,  oh,  Donner  spreads; 

Where  Silence  dreaming  broods, 

And  dark,  mysterious  woods 
Like  giants  crown  the  rifted  mountain-heads. 

There  sleeps  thy  placid  wave, 

For  now  no  tempests  rave, 
No  ghostly  shroud  upon  thy  surface  lies, 

But  winding  valleys  green 

Appear  thy  cliffs  between. 
And  mellowed  light  each  crag  with  saffron  dyes. 

A  scene  of  beauty  all. 

Marred  by  no  darkling  pall — 
Here  hallowed  Rest,  her  dove-like  wings  unfolds; 

Yet  Memory  o'er  thee  casts 

A  tale  that  sense  aghasts. 
And  Nature  in  a  coil  of  terror  holds. 

A  shade  of  tragic  gloom, 

Which  suns  can  ne'er  illume, 
Broods  o'er  thy  wave,  and  will  with  thee  endure — 

Will  sadden  every  gaze 

That  o'er  thy  bosom  strays, 
Yet  still  to  thee  the  pilgrim  wierdly  lure; 

As  this  impressive  view 

Composed  with  pencil  true 
By  Deakin,  wont  to  haunt  thy  gloomy  shore, 

And  druid-like  admire. 

When  flushed  with  morning's  fire, 
Thy  rural  wonders  glowed  his  gaze  before. 


112 


MIGNONETTE. 


InKTibcd  to  Mm,  JENNIE  &  CLARKE,  of  San  Franciaco. 


Ether  incense  filling, 

Spirit  rapture  thrilling, 
Mignonette  her  fragrant  breath  exhales; 

Fairy  dreams  inspiring, 

Like  the  fanc>'  firing, 
Soul-entrancing,  balm  of  Yemen's  gales. 

Oh,  sweet  joy  distiller, 

Subtle  pleasure  filler. 
Thee  I  breathe,  and  wafted  to  the  skies. 

Deem  thy  essence  glowing 

Is  the  sweetness  flowing 
From  the  honeyed  lips  of  girls  in  Paradise  I 


EPITAPH   ON   A  COQUETTE. 


Inscribed  to  P.  L.  PETERS,  Emu.,  Aitia,  of  Saa  Francisco. 


A  gay  coquette,  to  many  a  gallant  dear, 
Lies  buried  in  a  rose-wood  casket  here; 
Clotilda — she  whose  lips,  all  lips  above, 
Breathed  of  devotion,  breathed  of  constant  love. 
But  now,  by  Lethe's  stream,  in  realms  of  night, 
She  weeps  o'er  scenes  on  earth  her  sole  delight; 
She  mourns  the  lisping  beaux  she  left  behind 
Low-browed  Augustus  for  an  ape  designed, 
And  high-heeled  Tummus,  silly,  but  refined; 
Yet  more  than  these  delightful  men,  or  noodles, 
She  mourns  her  fan,  her  paint-box  and  her  poodles. 


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